


To Join You by Your Side

by ladydragona, SylviaW1991



Series: Simply Meant to Be [8]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Nightmare Before Christmas Fusion, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Consent is Sexy, Consentacles, Crowley Has Two Penises (Good Omens), Double Penetration, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Light Bondage, M/M, Naga Crowley (Good Omens), Wedding, fucking yourself. like literally, healing is not a straight line. but aziraphale is doing his best, light body horror if unattached hands and genitals are horrifying for you, mild references to past abuse, plug and play genitals, they like to switch things up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:35:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28315389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragona/pseuds/ladydragona, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylviaW1991/pseuds/SylviaW1991
Summary: The Pumpkin King marries his patchwork partner. The ceremony and reception are quick stops along the way, but things heat up in the privacy of their home.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Simply Meant to Be [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1981459
Comments: 33
Kudos: 86





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ladydragona  
> Merry Christmas, you animals. Enjoy some wedded bliss.
> 
> Syl  
> Starting with a wedding from two people who really don't know how to write weddings yet they somehow keep ending up in our fics, hmm....
> 
> Also, no smut this chapter. See you wild ones in Ch 2 for a good chunk of our tags 🤣

Companionship was something still very new for Crowley. He loved it, reveled in it, basked in it, but even after over a year of not being alone anymore sometimes it almost didn't feel real. Sometimes he would look over at Aziraphale while he read or sewed or drew and would just be overcome with the knowledge that the one thing he'd been dreaming of had finally become reality.

He hadn't always wanted companionship, though. There was a very long part of his life where that had been something of a non-issue. A confirmed bachelor, never getting too close or too attached. He had goals, things to achieve, and quite a lot of lazing about to do. So if he left a little too quickly when a couple was nearby, ended a conversation abruptly when someone mentioned a significant other or best friend, or dreamed at night of a soft hand in his, a voice that spoke of comfort, and an all-encompassing warmth, that was his business and no one else's.

It would be many many years before his stumbling upon a gentle but devious patchwork man would change that. An event that upended many of Crowley's carefully maintained opinions and assumptions of himself. And if you'd have told a small little black and red snake enjoying his first Halloween that one day he would be marrying the most beautiful being in all of Halloween Town, he'd have called you an idiot and bit you for good measure before slithering off to cause more trouble.

Now though, now he was grinning so wide it made his face hurt. He'd been unable to stop grinning all morning, despite being awake hours earlier than usual. They'd agreed to get things done in the morning, more time to celebrate in the evening and night that way.

“Angel, are you making a whole new bloody outfit in there or somethin'? Been almost half an hour now.” 

“Oh, hush.” He'd already made the new outfit. It was nearly identical to his usual one, but didn't have a single extra patch. His tartan bow tie was looped and tied and carefully straightened, the only pattern besides creams and beiges which pleased him. 

So it wasn't his outfit which kept him taking his time. It was the realisation that he was truly getting married. He was going to walk down an aisle with the most clever, wicked, sweet being in all of Halloween Town. Somehow, Crowley wanted him. _Him_. He had to remind himself that Crowley didn't think he was silly unless it was with affection, didn't think he was weak, and didn't think his softness was a flaw. He had to remind himself that the Angels were gone and wouldn't be crashing their wedding or anything else. 

Their _wedding_. 

“Are you sure you want to do this today, darling? I still think Christmas Eve would've been an excellent choice.”

Crowley groaned loudly and thumped the back of his head against the wall he was leaning on. “Don't you start on that. You're the one who kissed me on Christmas and chose our anniversary. Maybe you should've thought about our future wedding when you did that, eh?” 

“Perhaps you should've been less dashing yourself.” Aziraphale smiled, reaching for the doorknob. “Would you rather I have waited until the next Friday the 13th?”

“You say like it wouldn't have given you more options.” There were at least two Fridays that fell on the 13th of a month every year. “Imagine the confusion we could have caused. ' _Oh? When did you get together?_ On a Friday 13th! _But I thought that's when you were married?_ It is!' Hilarious.” Even though Aziraphale couldn't see him Crowley acted out the scenario, funny voice and all. 

Aziraphale giggled, able to envision it well enough. The dramatic serpent. “And we could have caused the exact same confusion had you married me on Christmas.” He swung open the door with a smile. “But I suppose we'll have to make due because I'm not waiting one more day to have you forever.”

“I was yours forever from the moment I saw you,” Crowley said, reaching out with a flutter of long fingers. “Now come here. Thought you might've got cold feet on me. Make me have to chase you down and throw you over my shoulder like the brutes in those human stories.” 

Aziraphale took his hand without hesitation, reaching out to touch the lapel of his suit. As with his own, he'd made it for his husband-to-be. Partially so he wouldn't have to suffer the grabby hands of hags and partially because he enjoyed seeing Crowley in his creations. “As much fun as I think that might be, it'll have to wait. I haven't changed my mind, dearest, and I'm not going to.” 

Crowley wiggled his eyebrows, comforted by Aziraphale’s hand in his and the gentle touch. “Certainly hope not. Never be able to get rid of me after today, even if you get tired of my antics.” 

“Oh, I don't think you have to worry about that. You won't get bored with me, will you?”

“Handsome angel like you?” Crowley lifted his hand to his lips to kiss his palm and feel Aziraphale’s warm fingers curl around his cheek. “I could never.”

“Wicked thing,” Aziraphale cooed, adoring him. “Have you heard from Madame Tracy yet? I hope everything's going well with the setup.”

“Mmhm, she stopped by a few minutes ago to say they were almost ready. It's a bit weird being on this end. Usually I'm the one waiting on the sappy couple to show up.”

“Are we a sappy couple?” Aziraphale wondered, lifting up to wind his arms around Crowley’s neck.

“You bet your stitching we are.” By now, winding his arms around Aziraphale when he came close was just the natural order of things. “Sappiest couple in town.” 

“Happiest, perhaps.” Aziraphale kissed him once, twice, a third time for good measure. “I love you.”

Was his heart ever going to stop doing that fluttery thumpy thing every time Aziraphale said that? “And I love you, my angel,” Crowley whispered. They weren't even married yet but it already felt like _so much_. He ducked his head to bury his face in Aziraphale's shoulder and held him tight. 

“Oh, my dear...” Perhaps they were the sappiest couple. But there could be far worse things than being in love and eager to be wed. “Are you going to embarrass yourself in front of the town?” Because, for the Pumpkin King, there was no such thing as a small wedding.

“Embarrass? What do you mean 'embarrass?'” Crowley mumbled through a wet sniff. “Never done anythin' embarrassing in m'life.” 

“Oh, yes, of course.” Aziraphale gave him a squeeze, letting himself be pressed even closer. “Not embarrassing at all. My sweet, wicked serpent.”

“See? Exactly. M'very wicked.”

“Tonight, my very wicked fiancé, I get to start calling you my very wicked husband.”

Crowley laughed. “Fuck, I don't think I'm ever going to get used to that.” And he wasn't sure he wanted to. Everytime Aziraphale said it - _husband_ \- it sent a little thrill down his spine. 

Aziraphale smiled, cupping Crowley’s cheek to guide him up into another fond kiss. “Neither will I. At least not without quite a bit of use.”

“Suppose we should get going then, so you can start. I've been looking forward to making love to my husband, after all.” 

Aziraphale giggled, rubbing their noses together. “How could I possibly deny you the opportunity? I think I'll enjoy ridding you of all this later, though you do look dashing in it.”

“Of course I look dashing; you made it.” So dark black he almost felt like one of the shadows he could command, the only splash of color his dark crimson shirt. He loved wearing the things Aziraphale created; it made him feel like his beloved was always there even when they had to be apart.

Aziraphale stepped back, fingers sliding down the lapels of his jacket. “Am I really marrying you today, Crowley? I'm not going to arrive and find this has all been some elaborate prank, am I?” 

Crowley barked out a laugh and grasped his hands. “Now why would you think I'd do something so cruel to you?” 

“It isn't that, darling. I just never expected to have a chance to be this happy. It's all a bit hard to believe sometimes.”

“Oh, angel.” Crowley gave the soft fabric hands in his a squeeze. “I know what you mean. Sometimes I wake up and I fear this was all just an elaborate dream.” 

Aziraphale smiled. “If it is, we're both having it and it's wonderful.”

“The most perfect dream,” Crowley agreed. “Well, are you ready?” 

“To marry you? I've been ready for a very long time, darling.”

“Let's get going then!” Crowley said, laughing and pulling Aziraphale along by the hands. “Before Tracy shows up with restraints and chains to drag us in. You'd think it was her getting married with how excited she's been.”

Aziraphale scurried to keep up with him, looping an arm around one of his. Long-legged devil. “You say that as if you’re somehow less excited.”

“Of course _I'm_ excited. I get to marry the most gorgeous being in the world today.” 

He wiggled as they walked, barely taking the time to lock their door. “Oh? Who might that be?”

Crowley rolled his eyes and grinned. “Haven't you heard? The Pumpkin King's madly in love with a patchwork angel.” Now that they were outside, a soft discordant melody could be heard from inside the town.

“Oh, no one but you calls me an angel, you silly serpent.” Aziraphale pressed closer to his side as they strolled towards the town square. “Gosh, I’m almost as nervous as I was on Halloween.”

“Don't be, it's just me… and the entire town watching, but just focus on me and you'll be fine.” 

“Crowley, that wasn’t nearly as reassuring as you likely intended.” Aziraphale cast him a bland look that quickly fell apart at his partner’s impish grin. He was very excited, his fangs sharp and glinting in the morning light. The sun hadn’t yet burned away all of the fog, so it was a nice, eerie walk. Slightly damp, slightly chilled, a wonderful morning in their permanent autumn which would blend into a stellar day if it knew what was good for it, and they’d have a bright full moon on their first night as a married couple. “But it won’t be difficult to focus on you, I think. You’ve always been difficult for me to ignore.”

“Good. Then you'll do just fine. No need to be nervous with me beside you. Besides, everyone here likes you.” Which was more of an understatement, really. Ever since Christmas, he'd had to field the occasional curious question about the 'mysterious patchwork being' seen on his arm around town. Then after their little Halloween act, it had become almost impossible to walk around by himself without someone stopping him and wanting to know more about Aziraphale. Though they never did so when Aziraphale was actually with him, oddly enough. 

“So you say.” Aziraphale knew who approached and had befriended him, and it wasn't a very high number. He was also more than alright with that as he wasn't entirely comfortable being rushed at or surrounded. As soon as it had become clear that the tiny private ceremony he'd envisioned wasn't going to be possible, he'd resigned himself to having to deal with both. But he also knew the being beside him wasn't going to allow it overmuch. It was just a part of marrying their town's monarch, however much Crowley didn't behave as one might expect from someone so powerful. It was easy, really, to forget that he was more than a mischievous serpent.

Crowley slowed, keeping Aziraphale’s arm tucked into his. As eager as he was, he didn't want to rush him. The buildings on the street from his house to the center of town were strung with purple and white flowers of nightshade and hemlock. Carved pumpkins, gourds, and turnips decorated the cobble road, the candles inside lighting up their eerie faces. “I do say. Have I ever lied to you?” 

“Well...” At Crowley's displeased look, Aziraphale smiled. “No, darling, not _really_. It's just a bit difficult to believe, I suppose.”

“So I _might_ have omitted information a few times,” Crowley begrudgingly admitted. “But I have never outright lied. Not to you, anyway.”

“You and I both know that I would see right through it, so attempts to lie to me wouldn't be very successful anyway.” But Crowley believing something to be true didn't automatically make it so. “Really, dearest, it's alright. I don't need to be liked by everyone in town. I'm happy with you and the friends we have. It's far more than I ever expected to have.”

“Of course you'd see through it, clever angel. M'sorry we couldn't have the ceremony you wanted, with just our friends, but this shouldn't take too long. Then we can go home and you can have me all to yourself for as long as you like.” 

“I'm not upset about it. I know just who I'm marrying, after all.” Aziraphale reached up to pat over his heart. “And I know you're not entirely comfortable with all the signs of your leadership. You're not even wearing your crown. What will Tracy say?” he teased. 

Crowley scowled. “She better not say a damned thing. M'not wearin' something that ugly, not if I can help it and especially not on my wedding day.” He grasped Aziraphale’s hand and held it against his chest. “Gotta look my best for my husband, after all.” 

“Your fiancé thinks you look your best every day, and your husband is very likely to think the same.” Aziraphale stopped to bob up and kiss his cheek. “Crown or no.”

“Don't tell me you actually like that thing.” 

“Of course not. My standards are impeccable.”

“Well, obviously, you're marrying me.” 

“Smug thing.” Aziraphale shook his head, tugging him along again. “Though you're correct. You've somehow met my standards. The point was, of course, that I don't care if you're wearing that silly crown or not. Nothing you wear or don't will change how much I love you.”

“At least someone doesn't care if I wear it,” Crowley grumbled. 

“You know I don't. It doesn't suit you.” Aziraphale smiled, squeezing his arm. “You're an excellent king, though. I still think you're clever and imaginative, even though you overthink your ideas now and again. I'm just exceptionally glad that I can't call you lonely anymore.”

“And I'm exceptionally glad you're the reason I'm not alone anymore.”

“And you never will be again, beloved. Neither of us will be.” Aziraphale slowed again as they drew near enough to hear murmured conversation, able to see Tracy watching for them. “Oh, my.”

“Everything alright?” From the sound of the low buzzing the square was likely to be packed, not that it should be a surprise considering how deserted the streets from home to here had been. 

He looked up to say he wasn’t sure, but ended up smiling instead. Oh, it didn’t matter who was there, how many were there, or what anyone else thought. Nothing mattered beyond the being he was snug against, the being who would likely bathe the entire event in shadow just to make him comfortable if asked. The being who loved him. “Yes. Everything’s just fine, dearest.”

Crowley gave the hand tucked into the crook of his arm a gentle squeeze. “Good.” He couldn't say he didn't understand Aziraphale’s nervousness, especially at the sight of the square. Certainly almost every being in Halloween Town was there, haphazardly placed benches filled to capacity. Of course, Tracy was right there at the entrance waiting for them, dressed in all pinks and creams with her spiderweb-like eyelashes fluttering excitedly. “Not running too late, are we?” 

“Oh, none of that now. You know it’s your day. You can arrive whenever you’re ready.” Inconvenience and subtle selfishness were what these things were all about, after all. Beaming with her sharp teeth on full, glinting display, Tracy reached for and clasped her hand around one of Aziraphale’s. “Now don’t you look a fright,” she gushed, pleased by his smile. “Scarier than our Crowley here.”

“I could hardly manage that sort of a feat, my dear lady, but thank you.” 

“Don't sell yourself short, angel. If the awards were right, you got more screams than I did last Halloween.” He couldn't help the teasing grin and nudge at Aziraphale's side.

“Oh, I promise you they were right,” Tracy assured them. They always had the local seers let them know who would win what beforehand. It was the fastest way to have prizes prepared. They’d had the previous years numbers checked three times just to be sure, but they’d only received wicked grins and wickeder assurances that all was correct.

Aziraphale smiled, leaning into Crowley despite his nudging. “I helped you, darling. We earned those together.”

“That's not what the awards saaay,” Crowley said in a sing-song like voice. “Besides, I'm quite proud of my scary soon-to-be husband.” 

“Very soon, if you’re ready. Mr. Shadwell’s been telling tales of past Pumpkin Kings, and you know how he likes to go on and on at times. He may just put the musicians to sleep at this rate.”

“Well, we shouldn't let that happen.” Aziraphale freed his hand to squeeze Crowley’s arm. “Shall we, darling?”

Crowley grinned down at him, more delighted than ever to have Aziraphale at his side, on his arm. “Yes, let's. Might as well save the poor masses from being bored to death.” 

“Yes.” Aziraphale held onto him and Tracy smiled, stepping into the square and onto the edge of a moth-eaten red carpet and lifting her megaphone to announce their arrival. When the band shifted mid-tune to some horrible facsimile of Wagner's Wedding March, Aziraphale nearly teared up. There was certainly an odd sense of deja vu somewhere in him, and when he looked up at Crowley, he could see the same passed through him. 

Something in them had done this already, perhaps, something deep and less-than-half-remembered. It had been different, but everything had been and it was impossible to hold onto. Like trying to carry water, it trickled away faster than they could squeeze it close. But they'd done this, they'd been this, and there was something comforting and heartening in knowing they'd found one another again. 

Aziraphale found himself blinking back tears after all as they took that first step into the square together. It was filled with the town, both sides equally packed, and some had even been wretched enough to wear white. How marvelous.

Decorations were held up by magic or a few stands setup, their colours black and red because Crowley had put his foot down over orange, much to Aziraphale’s amusement. But he did have to admit, the red wilted roses and tulips and lilies decorating the ends of the pews were a lovely touch. He was also fond of the blood dripping across the altar Shadwell stood behind, both Old and Young vying to watch the couple make their way down the aisle.

Aziraphale looked up, gracing Crowley with a watery smile and missing the collective shudder from those who could see.

Crowley missed it as well, too busy admiring the being walking beside him. He caressed Aziraphale’s knuckles, hoping it was enough to distract him from how many people were watching them. Most never realized just how many beings called Halloween Town their home. At least not until they were all packed together like this.

“Don't you start crying on me now,” Crowley whispered to him, blinking back his own waterworks. “S'not allowed till after.” 

Aziraphale giggled, wiping his eyes. It was hard to notice anyone else, really, the world fading into the background in favour of his partner. They were mere steps and simple words away from being wed. “Bossy thing. It's my day too. I should be able to do as I like.”

Crowley wanted to respond, possibly with something a little bit sarcastic and a lot a bit fond, but now they'd already arrived at the altar so he settled for a wink and a grin. Old Shadwell was there behind it looking annoyed and impatient but when his head spun Young Shadwell looked delighted.

“Keep you waiting long enough, Mayor?”

“Jus' long enough, I think.” His head swiveled. “Dinnae need all the waterworks. Ya teary-eyed-” Another swivel. “An' I'd say it's a terrible day for a wedding. Ready to begin?”

“As long as Aziraphale is.”

“Of course I am, darling.” Aziraphale squeezed his arm before letting go to stand across from him at Shadwell's brusque instructions. He took Crowley’s hands in his, beaming at the way he immediately laced their fingers.

“Aye. Well.” There were two boxes on his pulpit, two rings encased inside. Selected and handed over in secret, they would only see them when they were slid onto fingers. 

Aziraphale’s hands flexed in Crowley’s, anticipation and excitement high enough to drown out everything else. Shadwell's speech, the murmurs of the crowd, the very presence of anyone else at all was lost. It was him and it was Crowley until he recognised that his name was being said and his box was being offered. “Gosh,” he breathed, disentangling his hands to take it. 

They could've had vows. They could've had pages of words to spill, to torture a restless crowd with, but they'd opted not. They shared plenty of those words privately and Aziraphale rather preferred it that way. So quiet, blinking away tears, Aziraphale opened the ring box and slipped out the ring. A black band that resembled a coiled serpent was shyly pushed onto Crowley’s ring finger, Aziraphale looking up at him with a small smile and hopes of approval.

Crowley grinned down at it. The weight of the ring oddly familiar and comforting. Something long lost, finally found. He fought back more tears and sniffling as Shadwell offered him his own box.

He almost dropped it, fumbling the box as he tried to open it. He managed to keep hold of it, though, successfully pulling the ring and slipping on Aziraphale’s ring finger. A simple gold band etched to look like it was stitched together.

Aziraphale bit back his giggles but not the smile. As bright as his ring, he took Crowley’s hands again as Shadwell pronounced them married. “Ye can kiss if ye must,” Old Shadwell grumbled, head spinning so Young Shadwell could dab a kerchief to his eyes.

Crowley had been waiting for this. He slipped his fingers from Aziraphale’s hold to grasp him around the middle and haul him up. Covered his surprised gasp with a kiss. 

There were cheers and howls, blood curdling screams and other sounds of congratulations only a town like theirs could produce, and it was very difficult to even notice it all with their lips joined. 

Aziraphale reached up, arms twining around his neck as he returned the kiss. Their first as husbands. It could've lasted eons for all Aziraphale cared, awed and thrilled and buzzing with excitement over that wondrous new label.

And Crowley would have kept kissing him for eons. While the world around them died and decayed and was reborn again. Unfortunately Old Shadwell was having none of that and cleared his throat quite obnoxiously after a few long minutes. “Ye cannae use PDA as yer annoyance of choice, ye hooligans. Ye should've been later or shared vows.”

Aziraphale smothered his giggles against Crowley’s chest, clinging to his jacket. He was too giddy to be embarrassed by the length of their kiss, too excited by the ring on his finger, the ring on his husband's, the very label itself. His heart must've acquired some fresh wood wool or extra gears because it felt bigger than usual, swollen with all the love any one being could possibly feel.

“Course I can. M’the king,” Crowley grumbled petulant into Aziraphale’s curls, grinning hard enough to hurt. Even in the mild autumn weather and chilly mist Crowley felt warm, and not just where Aziraphale clung to him but all over. Heart beating hard enough he thought for sure it would bust right out of his chest.

“Wicked thing,” Aziraphale cooed, tilting his head to gaze up at him. His sharp-toothed grin was too stunning to not be answered with Aziraphale’s own bright, beaming smile. “ _My_ wicked thing.”

The townsfolk closest to them flinched away and quickly found something else to occupy them but Crowley only had eyes for Aziraphale. “Yours,” Crowley agreed easily. “What do you say we let everyone get on with their day and have a celebration all our own at home, hm?” 

Tracy would probably be furious if they left without partaking in the reception, but she wouldn't be surprised. She knew them well enough. “I think I'd very much like to go home with my husband.”

“Then home your husband will take you.” Crowley lifted him up, chasing his giggles with more kisses, and wading back into the slowly thinning crowd.

“Do you think Anathema and Newt will remember to bring us cake later?” Aziraphale wondered, smiling through yet another kiss. His lovely husband. 

Crowley muffled his laugh against Aziraphale’s cheek. “Of course you're thinking of cake! I'm sure I can find a way to get you your cake, don't you worry.” 

“ _Our_ cake,” Aziraphale corrected, smile playful. “And I don't think you'll regret it. I'd like to know what you taste like with a bit of icing on top.”

“Fuck,” Crowley gasped. “Yeah, yeah, our cake.” Mind full of all the ways Aziraphale could, and probably would, eat it off him. 

Aziraphale really did love how easy it was to tease and tempt Crowley. His serpent's own imagination could work against him in the most fascinating ways. And perhaps he was, ah, laying it on a bit thick, but it was _cake_ and it was, more importantly, their wedding cake. He wanted and he knew exactly how to get. “Oh, good. I knew my excellent, loving mate wouldn't let me down.”

Crowley whined and walked that much faster, exit in sight. “You are such a _bastard_. You _know_ what that does to me.” 

“Of course I do, darling, and you know how much I enjoy it. I'll even let you pick out what you'd like me to attach,” he promised quietly, lips exploring the familiar angles of his jawline.

Though escape was held off by one particularly stubborn witch. “Now none of your escapes, luvs. You've still got your reception, and don't you think for even a moment you can slither out of that, the pair of you.”

“‘S our wedding. We can leave if we want, witch,” Crowley hissed, leveling a glare at her.

“No, the wedding's over. Now for the party. Chop-chop. You've food and cake and congratulations to receive.”

The third thing Aziraphale could do without, but the first two? He laid his cheek against Crowley’s shoulders, giving his most pleading gaze. “We can't possibly leave without wedding cake, dearest. It would be terribly rude.”

Were it just Tracy to contend with, Crowley would have little issue. He’d been butting heads with her for years now. He couldn’t, however, say no to Aziraphale. Especially with the look he knew he was getting despite refusing to end his stare-down with Tracy. “Two against one’s not playing fair.”

“I'll make it up to you later,” Aziraphale promised. “Now put me down. We should at least say hello to Santa since he came all this way.”

Crowley huffed and grumbled but did set him down on his own feet, breaking the staring contest he _could_ have easily won to do so. “The things I do for love.”

Tracy laughed. “Enjoying your own wedding reception - what could be worse, I wonder?” 

Beaming, Aziraphale looped his arm through Crowley’s and happily tucked into his side. “We'll just get something to nibble and say hello to our friends.”

“Don’t lie, were it not for the food you’d be just as eager as I am to get out of here.”

Aziraphale giggled, tugging Crowley along after Tracy. The reception had been setup in Town Hall. “You should be grateful. I won't get peckish in the middle of our, ah, celebrating if I eat now.”

“Uh-huh. I’ve heard that one before,” Crowley said with a fond roll of his eyes. “Can’t fool me, angel. You’ll get peckish anyway and send me to go get whatever it is you’re craving.”

“It's your fault for always going.” Though Aziraphale did occasionally wiggle his way out of bed or wherever they ended up to cook, there was something sweet about being told to stay and having his partner dote on him.

As if Crowley wouldn't get him anything he wanted now that he could without having to worry about coming on too strong. “Of course I always go. A fed angel is a happy angel.” Besides, it was well worth the effort when he brought something home Aziraphale wanted and received a beaming smile and a kiss in return. 

“I hope you won't stop now that we're married,” he teased. “You've got what you wanted.”

Crowley squeezed the hand tucked in the crook of his arm as they approached the Town Hall, doors kept open for guests to come and go as they pleased. “I did get exactly what I wanted, didn't I? Suppose I don't need to go out of my way anymore, hm?”

Aziraphale giggled, ignoring the little voice in his head that tried to say Crowley meant it. Crowley wasn't like the Angels. They were only coming to the reception because he himself had asked. “You like treating me too much to stop now.”

“Of course I do. Spent too long holding back to stop now. I've got years to make up for.”

Oh, no. Nothing like the Angels. He couldn't even entertain the idea of not showering Aziraphale in affection. “My silly, sweet serpent. You have nothing to make up for. You've been wonderful to me since the start.”

Crowley wasn't sure about that. He could think of plenty of ways he could have been better, things he could have done to protect Aziraphale sooner, but it was easy to see those things after the fact and what mattered was that they were here now. “Flattery will get you everywhere, love,” he said with a wink and reluctantly stepped into the Town Hall.

It was decorated much like the outside, black spiderweb-like cloth covering the various tables and wilted red petals littered the floor. The room was, of course, quite packed with guests mingling amongst one another and taking food from the tables set up along the walls.

Aziraphale promptly made his way over, tugging his new husband along and making him hold a plate that quickly got laden with a dozen or so of the small appetizers. Someone had already been wretched enough to cut the cake. How thoughtful. 

Before they could reach it, though, Aziraphale’s attention was caught by their only guest not of Halloween Town. Or, to their surprise, guests. The two humans were given a wide berth, which seemed to suit them and their bemusement just fine. “Hello, Mr. Claus. And Mrs. Claus, I presume.”

“Yes. Ah. Congratulations.”

“It was a beautiful ceremony, and so simple.”

The insult was delivered like such a compliment, Aziraphale could only stare at her for a moment before remembering how odd Christmas Town and its tales were. It probably _was_ a compliment. “I wouldn't say so to Madame Tracy. She worked rather hard on it. Drove poor Crowley mad, asking for opinions on things nearly every day.”

“Bloody witch about drove me into an early grave, you mean.” He scowled at the memory of having to approve quite literally everything from colors to the exact amount of blood on the alter. He was quite sure Tracy had done so to torture him on purpose.

The scowl quickly morphed back into a grin, however. He was surprised to see Sandy and his wife had actually showed up. The suggestion to invite them had been said in jest but when Aziraphale latched into it and insisted he'd had The Them deliver the invitation on a lark. He was a little impressed they braved the Infernal Woods to attend at all.

“I wasn't sure if you'd come, considering your last… adventure in Halloween Town.” 

Aziraphale nearly sighed at him, but Mrs. Claus drew herself up and huffed. “You're hardly the first to try and steal Christmas. At least you're not afraid to see my Nicholas afterwards.”

“Was going to give him and the holiday _back_ ,” Crowley grumbled. “Was just borrowing it.” 

Aziraphale took a hold of his arm again, still not entirely sure if they could use some sort of Christmas magic to make Crowley less of himself. “It was sweet, darling, but terribly misguided.”

“As you've told me. Repeatedly.”

Aziraphale giggled. “Yet you still wouldn't marry me on Christmas.”

“Of course not! Too many things happening on the same day. Gotta spread stuff out through the year or you have no time to enjoy anything when it matters. And would you _really_ want our wedding anniversary interrupted by Christmas every year?” 

Absolutely not. “Perhaps.”

Crowley scowled at him. So terribly in love with one patchwork being with a bastard streak a kilometer wide. “Well that's just too bad, now isn't it? Already married me, maybe you shoulda argued your point better.”

“I suppose so.” Aziraphale picked a piece of possible cheese off his plate, humming happily and well-aware of the effect his happy sounds had on the serpent. “In any case, it was wonderful to see you again. And very nice to meet you, Mrs. Claus.”

Her brows lifted as if surprised to find any politeness in a town wherein several beings were, even as they spoke, being webbed to the ceiling by some of the more mischievous spidery creatures. “Yes... You too.”

“Yup, thanks for coming, glad there's no hard feelings. Everything turned out just fine in the end anyway.” More than fine, really, in Crowley’s opinion. Christmas still happened the way it was supposed to, Aziraphale made the choice to leave the Angels employ, and they'd confessed their love and shared a first kiss. An all around success if you asked him. 

It was so brusque, Aziraphale couldn't help but laugh as he pulled Crowley away and closer to the cake. “Wicked thing. You're very lucky all turned out well.”

Crowley allowed himself to be pulled, unable to stop himself from smiling down at Aziraphale. “How many times do I have to tell you there was no luck involved at all? Just careful planning and quick thinking all by yours truly. Wasn't even any real danger involved.” 

“Ah, yes. Where in your plans were those demons throwing me over the bridge?”

“Obviously it wasn't. That was some of the quick thinking.” Crowley slipped his arm from Aziraphale’s grasp to wrap around his waist. “Couldn't very well let you get soaked, I remember how much you hate it.” And how long it took for him to dry out and replace molded stuffing.

“It's _dreadful_. It _was_ rather quick thinking, though.” He'd never been more relieved or delighted by coils in his life. Aziraphale plucked something completely unidentifiable off the plate, unsure even after he took a bite. It may even be poisonous, which would be interesting, so of course he offered one to his new husband. “Try this.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes at the offering, unsure if it was even food. “Are you sure you should be eating that?” 

“It was on a tray on the table with the rest of the food, and it tingles.” Aziraphale smiled and ate it himself, amused.

“That doesn't mean it's food for _everyone_. There's bottles of blood for the vampires but I don't expect you to go drinking it.” He had no idea what it was Aziraphale had gotten a hold of, but also had enough experience watching him eat the strangest things to know he couldn't get sick from it. “'S probably one of those mushrooms the swamp hags grow. They always try to sneak them into every party.” 

“Mm. Well, they're very good. I'll ask for some next we see them.”

Crowley groaned. He could imagine it; Aziraphale forgetting or just not noticing the mushrooms he was using to cook dinner and accidentally poisoning them. Well, accidentally poisoning _Crowley_. Aziraphale himself would just get a 'tingle'. “Are you _trying_ to poison me? Because that's what that sounds like, angel.” 

“Oh, you were fine last time. And I did promise to be more careful with my more poisonous ingredients.” Aziraphale took another, humming to himself. “This would probably be lovely in a stew.”

“Of course it would,” Crowley said, resigning himself to yet another poisoning. “Thank the Powers That Be I'm harder to kill than I look.”

“Oh, yes, that would be awfully inconvenient. I like you alive.”

“Would Aziraphale end up Pumpkin King if you went and died, Crowley? Now that you're married and all,” Adam wondered, the five members of The Them appearing behind Crowley.

Crowley grinned, turning them both to face the children. “That's a very good question, Adam. Doesn't quite work like that, but he is pretty scary, might get it anyway.” 

“Oh, no, I don't think so.”

“Actually, you're probably the scariest person in town besides Crowley,” Wensleydale said, the other four nodding. 

“Nobody'd argue if you wanted to be the new king, I think. Except maybe Satan,” Pepper mused.

“He's nothing but hot air. Let him complain all he likes.” Crowley gave his side a squeeze. “They're right, though. Maybe I should just pass it off to you next time I don't want to get up for an early morning town meeting. Think you'll do just fine.”

“Hold on, you said you were going to make Adam king when you got tired of it,” Warlock said with a frown. “Not very fair if you just change your mind whenever you want.” 

“It wouldn't be permanent! Aziraphale can just give it back.”

“Not that he's being serious,” Aziraphale assured them, flattered but quite certain he would be absolutely rubbish at ruling. “I'm certainly no Pumpkin King.”

Crowley grinned down at him. Of course he wasn't being serious, there was quite a bit more to being Pumpkin King than just a transfer of power and responsibilities, but it was still fun to tease. “Oh but, angel, you could be.”

“I'd rather be married to you than have your role, dearest.” Aziraphale bobbed up to kiss his cheek. “But thank you.”

“So you'd rather Adam be next too?” Brian wondered.

“Oh, of course. I think he'll make a wonderful king once he's a bit older.”

Warlock squinted at him. “Are you just sayin' that because Crowley says so?” 

Aziraphale chuckled. “No, though that is part of it. I trust my husband's judgement.” And it was exciting to be able to call him that, Aziraphale looking up at him with a bright smile.

“Oi, be nice to my husband you little menace.” Crowley would have reached out to ruffle his flaming hair, but had one hand still occupied by Aziraphale’s plate and the other full of Aziraphale himself.

Warlock stuck out his bright red tongue in lieu of responding.

Aziraphale wiggled happily, as smitten with hearing the label as he was saying it himself. They were husbands. “He's alright, dearest. He's quite the terror.”

“We're all scary,” Pepper said, fists falling to her hips. “Scarier than some grownups.”

Crowley had to agree with that, most 'grownups' lost their sense of imagination and curiosity that was integral for coming up with good frights. “Of course you are. Never seen a scarier group of kids.” 

This seemed to satisfy The Them, even Warlock's normally sour expression morphing into a grin. One of them announced cake intentions and off they went, several guests slipping in Brian's slime. Aziraphale was much better at hiding his amusement than Crowley, and was quick to scold him through giggles. “Now- now stop that. It isn't _that_ funny, you silly serpent.”

“Course it is!” Crowley said through his snickering as Dr. Jekyll also slipped in the slick slime, barely staying upright enough to not lose his plate. “'S not a party without a little chaos.”

“Wicked thing.” Aziraphale bobbed up to kiss his cheek again. “I think there's room for cake on my plate now.”

Crowley glanced at said plate, a good portion of the finger foods Aziraphale had picked up were now gone, all that was left was a few slices of moldy cheese, rancid meat, and a generous dollop of something grey and unidentifiable. He grabbed a slice of the meat, it was cold, rubbery, and very much past any 'best by' dates. “And I know that's really why you wanted to stick around.” 

Aziraphale giggled. “I don't know what you mean. It was the polite thing to do.”

“Uh-huh,” Crowley said and turned them back towards the cake. They'd have to wade through multiple groups of guests to get to it. “And yet you were just fine with us leaving right away before Tracy got in the way.” 

“Well, she pointed out all the hard work she'd done for us. And it is properly horrid, isn't it?”

“Sure is.” The band had moved inside and was playing off-key, he could hear the growl of a werewolf that was usually followed by a fight breaking out, and Brian had zigzagged through enough of the room that the entire western half was a slime minefield. A look towards the stage and the haphazardly hung curtain had him chuckling again. “Remember last time we were both here? You got all tangled in the curtain.”

“Oh, of course you'd remember that. I was worried about you, you silly serpent, and trying to see what shenanigans you were getting up to.”

“You mean you were sneaking around,” Crowley said and squeezed his side. “I keep the curtain loose to keep quiet buggers like you from sneaking up on me.” 

“Yet I still manage to sneak up on you at home.” And nearly everywhere else. “I think you enjoy it.”

“Only from you. Anyone else tries that shit they're going to get bit.” He flashed his fangs and guided Aziraphale around a group of lizardfolk who smiled at him but then grimaced and shuffled out of the way.

The reaction gave Aziraphale pause, his delight slipping. When a group of weres did the same, he pressed closer into Crowley’s side as if he could disappear into his husband. His heart felt as if it were wound too tight, busy mind wondering if the reactions were ones of disapproval. Perhaps they thought he wasn't frightful enough to wed the king of Halloween. Which was correct, of course. How silly of The Them to call _him_ scary, of all beings.

Crowley glanced down at him, the grin he hadn't been able to fully get rid of since this morning sliding away. Aziraphale's eyebrows were drawn together in that particular way of his when he got worried or anxious about something. Crowley had seen it happen often enough to know. “Hey, what's wrong?” 

“Oh, I...” Aziraphale twisted his new ring. “Nothing. Not- Not a thing. I'm just being an old silly, I think.”

That was a lie if he'd ever heard one, the nervous ticks giving him away easily. “Aziraphale, I know you better than that. Something's bothering you.” 

There were too many beings around for him to feel safe answering, wary of appearing even more foolish. Proving them right. He wanted to be home, tucked away with the one being who loved him despite his failings. Though he was so wrapped up in how to say that in a non-humiliating way, that he jumped when they were approached by familiar faces. 

Anathema held up her hands in a soothing way, offering a smile. “I've never seen anyone scared of Newt before.”

“Which is- it's fine. If you weren't.” Newt smiled as well. “You looked lost in thought.”

“I suppose I was.” Immeasurably grateful for friendly faces, Aziraphale stopped twisting his ring around and relaxed minutely against Crowley’s side.

Despite Aziraphale’s sudden change in demeanor, Crowley was still worried about him but unwilling to continue pursuing the subject in front of an audience. “Course no one's scared of Newt. He couldn't even scare an infant.” 

His colorful gills fluttered a little when he laughed. “Not all of us can be as effortlessly frightening as you and Aziraphale.”

“Of course not, honey, Crowley is just being an asshole as usual,” Anathema said, frowning at Crowley and rubbing Newton's back.

Crowley scowled back at her. “Just sayin' it how it is, witch.”

Aziraphale clasped his hands together, struggling against the urge to wring them together. _Effortlessly frightening_. That wasn't... Crowley could be. Aziraphale found his fanged snarls and venomous snake form to be charming, but had seen others flinch away from him. Not to mention his control over the shadows, the darkest abilities he had access to if only he reached for them. They weren't frightening to Aziraphale, but to others...

But Aziraphale himself? He wasn't frightening, effortlessly or otherwise. On Halloween, perhaps, but only because he'd been helping Crowley. “I think Newton could be frightening if, ah, he wanted to be.”

Newt chuckled sheepishly and scratched the back of his head. “Maybe? I don't mind, really. I'm just me, which suits me just fine, I think.”

“See!?” Crowley said, waving Aziraphale’s plate in his direction. “He doesn't even wanna be.”

Anathema crossed her arms and glared at Crowley. “And there's nothing wrong with that.”

“Course there's not. Never said there was.”

“Because you're a dear.” Aziraphale sighed to himself, glad that even if others didn't think he should be married to Crowley, his husband thought otherwise. “Now that's enough bickering. I know weddings typically end in brawls, but I'd rather not be involved in one today.”

Crowley pouted at him. “Wasn't gonna.”

“Yes, but you've been known to instigate, you devil.”

Which was true, when he got too bored Crowley could often be found orchestrating arguments between two or more beings just to watch the chaos unfold. Crowley grinned down at him while Anathema shook her head.

“No fighting here, wouldn't want to put your new husband out of commission prematurely,” she said and winked.

Aziraphale looked up, smile returning soft and a little wicked. “Oh, I'm sure he'd be just fine.”

“Aaaaand that's enough of that! Come on, you.” Crowley grabbed Aziraphale around the waist and turned their backs to Anathema's witchy cackle. “I'll show you 'just fine, '” Crowley growled in his ear as he led them away. 

Aziraphale giggled, content enough to be hauled about. “Wicked serpent. I certainly hope you plan to show me more than that.”

He certainly did. Crowley passed the mostly empty plate off to the nearest being as he steered Aziraphale towards the still open doors. “Be careful what you wish for,” he muttered quietly. 

“Why should I? I've gotten everything else I've been wishing for.” Aziraphale let himself be led away, forgetting all about cake and everything else but his husband. “You've yet to let me down.”

Crowley chuckled. “Impeccable logic.” 

“I certainly hope you're not making fun of me, dearest. I might have to remember that I still haven't gotten a piece of cake.”

“Implying you would forget the cake at all.” Aziraphale was nothing if not predictable when it came to food. “Don't you worry about the cake. There will be plenty for you to get your hands on.” He'd made sure of it. 

His lashes fluttered, smile almost sweet. “Oh, I know just what I want my hands on.”

Crowley groaned, causing a few heads to turn in their direction, before tugging Aziraphale outside into the crisp autumn air. “Bastard.” 

“A bastard you married.” Aziraphale smiled down at his ring, admiring the golden band with its stitched pattern. Such a unique thing, really, and so incredibly sweet of him. “And hopefully one you plan to take home and ravish.”

“You know I do,” Crowley growled and rounded on him to lift Aziraphale up and kiss him. “I'll get you cake later. That's a promise.”

Beaming, Aziraphale looped his arms around Crowley's neck. “I'll hold you to that.”

“As if I'd ever break a promise to you.” Crowley set off back towards home, eager to have Aziraphale all to himself and pressing kisses across his cheeks.

Aziraphale giggled, shifting enough to let his teeth teasingly graze Crowley’s throat. “You haven't yet. I love you.”

“And I, ah, love you.” Even after being married it still felt novel and exciting to be able to say it, to have it said to him. Crowley tugged at his ear with his teeth. “You're mine now, gorgeous thing.” 

A shiver ran down his spine, anticipation heightening. They wouldn't be interrupted this time, the town in and around Town Hall. “All yours, yes, just as you're mine. We've the rings to prove it.”

And it was, really, only the two of them who mattered in their relationship. If the entire town disapproved, Aziraphale was sure Crowley would still choose him. His silly, sweet serpent. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Syl  
> Merry Christmas for those of you who celebrate 🥰


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Syl  
> I will not apologize for the shameless monsterfucking that's ahead 🤣  
> Also, it's okay if things don't always go exactly to plan, or if you need to change things up midway to keep the arousal high and the tension low. Even if you're a snake and a patchwork being 🥰
> 
> ladydragona  
> And we all know the vast majority of Crowley's plans don't quite work out 😉

Crowley couldn't get them home fast enough, trousers tightening with how Aziraphale’s hands were tugging at his hair. “Can't-can't wait to spread you out, mm, on our bed. Have my wicked way with you.”

“Oh, yes.” Aziraphale mouthed along his jaw in damp, nipping kisses. The hand not in his hair toyed with the buttons of his shirt, undoing the top few as he was carried home. His fingers couldn't resist exploring the newly exposed skin, all of him ready for those promises to come to fruition. “How serpentine are you in the mood for, beloved?”

It was a monumental effort not to trip over his own feet, especially on the rickety stairs that led to their front door. “What do you say to half?” Crowley panted into his mouth, already worked up from all the things he wanted to do to his husband and fumbling to unlock the door. “So I can kiss you and caress you and squeeze you all at once?”

Aziraphale shivered in his arms, though the romanticism of being carried over the threshold wasn't lost on him. Such a barbaric tradition. “Half would be lovely so long as you don't drop me, silly serpent.”

“If I recall, I've _caught_ you more often than not.” They were barely inside before Crowley shifted his lower half and pressed Aziraphale against the nearest wall in the entryway. Kissing him breathless with no Shadwell or Tracy or townspeople to gawk and interrupt. 

He had caught him. Again and again, and still was. Coming to his rescue even though there were few things that could actually harm him. He cared, and he showed it. Crowley loved him, and they'd just proved it to everyone in town. 

Aziraphale used the wall and Crowley’s shoulders to brace himself enough to get his legs banded around Crowley's waist. Their tongues tangled in a dance that had become familiar over their time together, but was still cherished. It all was. Crowley was in particular. Aziraphale found his shirt buttons and began to quickly undo as many as he could with their torsos plastered together, only then breaking the kiss with a gasp and a small nip. “Darling- My husband. I love you. I love that you just claimed me in front of everyone, that I could you.”

“Yesss,” Crowley hissed, trailing kisses across his soft jaw, fingers flexing on his thighs. “Now they, mm, they all know. They know we belong to each other.” His tail was already twitching, eager to wrap Aziraphale up and never let him go.

As if anyone had been able to have a doubt with how close Aziraphale tended to stick to Crowley when they went out together or after their Halloween performance. But there was something special in having this new label. Aziraphale had expected to be more nervous about their audience and still marvelled over how little the crowd had ended up mattering. Like Halloween, they’d only been a backdrop, easily swallowed by golden eyes and the being they were attached to.

Silk lashes fluttered, his head tipping back against the wall to give Crowley better access. “Oh, yes. Yes, they know. And so do we, darling. My ring’s lovely, it’s perfect. I want to feel yours on my skin.”

“Gonna need you out of these clothes then,” Crowley said against his neck, left hand snaking between them to fiddle with the buttons of his shirt and sharp teeth grazing the fabric of his throat. Just a hint, a suggestion, that Crowley _could_ bite down, _could_ tear a piece out of him so easily. Not that he _would_ , but Aziraphale liked the thrill of the potential danger.

Aziraphale shuddered against him, hips rolling. “If they happen to tear, I can always fix them.”

“You know I don’t destroy your things unless you ask.” Though the idea of just ripping them off was one Crowley entertained often.

“Crowley, my wicked darling, I’m asking.”

Crowley released his thighs and fisted both hands in the front of his shirt. “Then who am I to deny you?” He pulled, fingers sharpening into claws, buttons popped and fabric ripped in the quiet hall. Shirt hanging loose and open on Aziraphale’s shoulders Crowley pressed his left hand to his heaving chest, black ring right over his wood wool heart.

“ _Crowley_.” Aziraphale would’ve melted into a puddle right then were he that sort of a creature, settling for an excited shudder instead. His left hand fell to Crowley’s, their rings clicking. It was new, but buzzed with a distant familiarity that only made the patchwork being writhe in search of more. “Bed, dearest, _please_.”

“So polite,” Crowley snickered and rubbed their noses together. He laughed at Aziraphale’s annoyed huff and lifted him away from the wall before he could start complaining in earnest.

A hand delved into auburn hair to tug. “I could be more demanding if you’d prefer.”

Luckily Crowley didn’t have feet to trip over this time, another perk of being at least half snake. “Yesss, absolutely. Tell me what you want, how your husband can best please you.”

“Gosh. You’d like that?”

Crowley pressed his face to Aziraphale's bare chest, breathing heavy. “ _Angel_ , I've been trying to please you and make you happy for years. Telling me what you want, what I can do, _fuck_. You have no idea.” 

“ _Oh_. I thought- Well, with all the constricting and how possessive you are, I assumed you liked being in control. And you know how much I enjoy that.” Aziraphale hummed in consideration, toning down his ability to feel enough to let his mind work. “What if what I want is to do something to you?” 

“You can do anything you want to me.” Crowley set him down gently on their bed. Fingers sliding up his body, over the swell of his stomach, pushing his coat and ruined shirt off his shoulders. “What's that beautiful mind of yours thought up?” 

Aziraphale sat up enough to help him discard the layers, then busied his fingers with the rest of Crowley’s buttons. Shirt opened, he skated his fingers down where skin met scale, stroking lower still until he found the edges of his cloacal scale. “I want you to wrap around me as promised, but I also want to use my mouth on you.”

Crowley shivered at the delicate but warm touch, an aroused ripple rolling down his much longer spine. “More than, ah, more than enough tail for that, I think.”

“Oh, I think so.” Long coils spilled off the bed, and Aziraphale let sensation trickle back in so he could feel the smooth caress of them. “Off with these now, dearest,” he instructed, tugging at his jacket. “And then you're going to lay back and let me have my way with you.”

Hastening to comply Crowley quickly discarded his shirt and jacket, tossing them blindly across the room. “ _Fuck_. You’re sexy when you’re bossy.” He threw himself down onto the bed, maneuvering coils to expose his red underbelly and already twining the tip of his tail around Aziraphale’s leg.

Aziraphale smiled at him, unbuttoning his own trousers. Not having bits attached had never kept him from enjoying the press of those scales around or against him. “No wonder you can’t keep your hands or any other extremities away from me then.” He straddled Crowley’s waist and leaned down to only briefly capture his lips, mouth eager to explore his throat in nippy kisses. “Lovely serpent. I’m going to enjoy you.”

Crowley groaned and arched his back, pressing closer to the warmth of Aziraphale’s body and hands roamed the broad expanse of his back. “You like that, ah, that I always want to touch you.” 

“Very much, darling.” Aziraphale loved being in his clutches, something he hadn’t kept a secret for quite some time, and it was thrilling to feel the cool metal of his ring now. “Husband of mine,” he hummed, lips trailing across one shoulder and then the other.

“Husband,” Crowley breathed. They were married. Aziraphale was his spouse, his _husband_. A laugh bubbled up unexpectedly and Crowley didn’t try to stop it as he clutched Aziraphale close.

Aziraphale pressed a firm, smiling kiss over Crowley’s heart. “Husband,” he repeated. “I’m always going to be yours.”

“Better be. I had to threaten no less than fifteen beings with extreme bodily harm to keep that ring a secret from you.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale pushed up, laying his left hand over Crowley’s heart so he could admire the band. “I didn’t have to do any such thing.”

“Wot?! That bloody dragon Gertrude and her whole team of goblins gave me shit when I commissioned them to make it, Tracy kept saying it needed to be fancier, and I had to promise not to steal Anathema’s broom anymore or she’d tell you.” He grabbed Aziraphale’s hand off his chest to kiss the band and fingers aboud it. “Damned nightmare.”

“Was it?” Aziraphale giggled at him. “I’m glad you didn’t give in and make it any fancier than it is. This is perfect.”

Crowley preened and nuzzled his hand. The cool metal of the ring such a sharp contrast to how warm Aziraphale’s hands always were. “Yeah, some big gaudy thing like the jewelry Tracy wears wouldn’t suit you.”

“Definitely not,” he agreed with a huff, thumb brushing over Crowley’s lower lip. “You do like yours, don't you? The inner ring is red.”

“I love it.” Crowley kissed his thumb teeth grazing the pad. “Never gonna take it off.”

“I'd be alright with that.” Feeling a little bold, Aziraphale slipped his thumb into Crowley’s mouth to press against that forked tongue. “As I'm never letting you go.”

Crowley moaned his agreement around Aziraphale’s finger, sealed his lips around it and sucked. Never breaking eye contact.

Aziraphale shivered. “You beautiful serpent. Do you want something to occupy your mouth with? I could get one of my, ah, cocks for you.”

He released Aziraphale’s thumb with a drag of tongue and wiggle of eyebrows. “Think you can handle being squeezed _and_ having your cock sucked?” 

That would depend entirely on whether or not Crowley decided to override Aziraphale’s ability to muffle sensation. “I think so. Besides, you said you want to please me.”

“Course I do.” Crowley kissed the stitching at his wrist. “Why don’t you pick out one for me?”

Aziraphale nodded and slipped off him and the bed, quickly crossing to what looked like an innocent enough armoire. Inside, though, were jars of body parts. Pieces of anatomy that needed swapping after intimacy and pieces they used during.

And Aziraphale knew which ones Crowley liked best down his throat. He hummed as he plucked a jar off a shelf, closing the doors before unscrewing the cap. It was long and thick enough to make his serpentine throat work, the thought of the sensations nearly enough to make Aziraphale moan. His own hand wrapping around the bundle to remove it from the jar was the nudge he needed to let the sound unfurl. It and he were ready to feel good.

“How, mm, how's this one, dearest?” 

Crowley groaned, his snake lower half writhing on the sheets instinctively seeking a warm body to wind around. “It’s perfect. Now bring that over here, the bed’s cold without you.”

“Is it?” Aziraphale teased, plucking at the waist of his trousers instead of coming closer.

With a huff Crowley sat up enough to lean on his elbows. “ _It is_ , you tease.” He watched Aziraphale stall with that bastard smile of his, pale lashes fluttering, and he _knew_ the anticipation of it was only going to work Crowley up more. Well, two could play that game.

Crowley flopped back onto the bed but continued to stare at his husband as he trailed his hands from chest to stomach, tweeking his nipples with a sigh. “Or you could just stand there and watch me, if it pleased you.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale breathed, looking him over. Flame hair, golden eyes, and that blush-pink skin fading into richly coloured scales. He was a vision. He was _Aziraphale’s_. “I do like watching you, my dear. You're beautiful.”

“Pfft. I’ll take your word for it.” Crowley didn’t get what the big deal about himself was, but Aziraphale? Aziraphale was gorgeous. Plump and warm and perfect for squeezing, expressive blue eyes, the softest of curls. The only thing Crowley wanted, and yet _still_ so far away. He slid his hands lower, past where skin became scales, breath hitching as he encouraged his cloacal scale to slide open.

“You should. I'm correct.” Aziraphale watched his scale part, revealing the sensitive pink dampness, and wet his lips. “Oh, my love. Touch yourself how you want me to touch you.”

Crowley groaned, fingers circling the edge of the opening and just brushing the tips of the penises tucked away inside. “Mmm. Come over here. Get a-a better look.”

He wanted to, at least giving in and letting his trousers fall, but the only steps he took were to get out of the puddled fabric. “Soon, my sweet serpent. Have you ever used the shadows on yourself?” he asked, knowing the answer already.

A soft whine escaped his mouth. “Co-course not. Didn't, ah, didn't think about it. Before.”

“Will you? Only for a moment. Then I'll give you me.”

“F-fine. Only for you.” Dark tendrils climbed from under the bed, crawling along the sheets and sliding over his scales. Crowley shivered at the cool contact so different from Aziraphale’s warm hands. The dexterous tips wrapping around his wrists to join his fingers. 

There was a surprising flicker of jealousy in Aziraphale as he watched. He knew they were simple things his husband controlled, had been wrapped up and surrounded by them enough times now to know that. It wasn't _that_ different from Crowley only using his hands, and yet... 

He couldn't explain it, and didn't try very hard. They motivated him to move closer, to watch those dark tendrils toy with the soft dampness of Crowley’s cloaca, and to brusquely bat them aside so his fingers could dip in and stroke what he could get of one of those familiar hemipenes. When the shadows wrapped around his wrist and squeezed, Aziraphale couldn't help but shiver. “You're so good to me, my darling mate.”

“ _Angel_ ,” Crowley whined, thrusting against his fingers. Their warmth a welcome relief from the cold shadows. His snake half sought the warmth as well, winding around Aziraphale’s middle even as shadowy tendrils continued to caress his scales.

Aziraphale set his detachable length beside Crowley, letting the tug of his tail beckon him back onto the bed. The squeeze sent pleasured ripples along his spine, the strength underneath always welcome. “That's it, my love. I want you to feel good. And one of these is going to come down my throat.” Aziraphale straddled that long body of his and cupped the space where scale met skin to settle Crowley’s wiggling enough that his tongue could delve into the wet heat of his cloaca.

Crowley yelped and clawed fingers scrambled for purchase on the sheets. He tried to stay still and not thrash and thrust against Aziraphale’s mouth, but his soft tongue caressing sensitive inner walls and his penises as they slipped out was making that increasingly difficult.

His hand brushed something warm and sturdy and he grabbed it without a second thought.

Startled by the sudden attention to his cock, Aziraphale cried out against one of Crowley’s shafts. “Oh, ah, be a little- A little more gentle with that.” He looked up, cupping one of Crowley’s cocks and dragging his tongue over the head of the other.

“S-ssssorry, angel,” Crowley hissed, gentling his hold. “Wasn't, ah, wasn't paying attention.” Though now that he had it Crowley brought the cock to his mouth, ran his nose up the length and pressed a kiss to the shaft in apology. 

Aziraphale gazed up at him, a shiver sliding down his spine. “Distracted, dear?” he asked, licking around his cock head as if he'd found an exceptionally tasty ice cream. His fingers delved into and stroked along the edges of his cloaca.

“You nnnngk, know I am.” Coils squeezed Aziraphale tighter in retaliation as Crowley struggled to keep his hips from lifting off the bed. His tongue darted out to lick a stripe up Aziraphale’s cock, the split tips sliding up either side. 

Oh, yes, it certainly was a lot of stimuli. His seams stretched, Crowley’s warm and talented tongue - even the undulations of the serpentine form beneath him a contact Aziraphale could and did enjoy. “Darling,” he moaned and sank down, swallowing greedily. He may not have been a serpent, but his throat's limitations were more suggestion than fact.

Crowley’s hips gave up their losing fight and thrust into Aziraphale’s eager mouth and down his warm wet throat. Using his tongue to its full advantage, he wound it around Aziraphale’s cock, rhythmically squeezing in time with his coils before pulling it into his mouth to suck him in turn. 

Aziraphale’s whine was muffled, fingers a little clumsy as he struggled to focus on the movements of them through the haze of pleasure. The thrusting of his fingers into that wet opening, the stroke of the shaft not in his mouth. At least that, he could let Crowley control, eyes only half-open when his gaze flicked up. His tongue, not nearly as dextrous as Crowley’s, still rubbed and lapped and his throat took every thrust easily.

The sight of Aziraphale's soft mouth stretched around his cock while his hands worked in and around him had him moaning around the length sliding down his throat. Crowley lifted his free hand to cup Aziraphale’s cheek, thumb brushing where they were joined. 

The moan, even without actually having the penis attached, seemed to reverberate straight through Aziraphale’s body. He echoed the sound, muffled though it was, and knew he wasn't going to last much longer. He couldn't focus enough to tone down the sensations, drowning in them and in his husband.

His coils tightened and shifted without much input from Crowley at all, lost as he was in the wet heat of Aziraphale's mouth and the heavy weight on his tongue. Though Crowley still had enough mind to tangle his fingers in Aziraphale's hair, a warning of the release coiling in his belly. 

Aziraphale hummed around him, hands pausing so he could focus on bringing him to his first peak. Lashes fluttering as his eyes closed, he gave himself over to the motion, following Crowley’s rocking hips to keep him deep, encased in the warm wet of his mouth and throat. It was difficult to ignore the slide of scales and the pressure around both body and unattached cock, but there was an immense pleasure in making sure his partner felt good.

Crowley shuddered and while he couldn't say Aziraphale’s name with a cock in his mouth he still garbled something that sounded close enough. Fingers clenched in Aziraphale's curls, coils squeezed and Crowley spilled down his throat with a muffled cry. 

Aziraphale swallowed greedily, eyes struggling to stay open to watch him fall apart. He sucked and lapped until the hand on his cheek gave a soft push in a simple sign of impending oversensitivity. Breathless, he lifted his head and blinked up at him. “Crowley,” he panted, nuzzling the second one. “Crowley, please, I'm so- so close, dearest.”

Crowley squeezed his coils in response, the muscles still spasming. He pet Aziraphale’s hair, meeting his half-lid gaze as he took his cock deeper jaw unhinging to easily swallow him down. Wanting so desperately to make this good for his husband, to bring him to his peak. 

Aziraphale shuddered, letting himself enjoy the onslaught now. That pretty flush had spread from Crowley’s cheeks down his filled throat to spread across his chest. “Look at you,” he breathed. “My- _oh_ , my beautiful serpent. I l-love you. The things you, mm, you-” He whined when that bifurcated tongue squeezed around his length. “The things you do to me, Crowley. Wonderful, perfect, my mate.” That long tail squeezed tight, almost too much so, and it had Aziraphale letting go on a shout of Crowley’s name, body shuddering through his release.

The cock in his throat pulsed as Aziraphale shouted much like a flesh and blood one would. Crowley worked him through it until he slumped, panting, against the upper part of his tail. Only then did he gently remove Aziraphale’s cock from his mouth, the length of it dripping and soaked through. “Angel…” Crowley croaked, fingers slipping against shoulder. 

Aziraphale reached for him, a wordless request to get drawn up that was easily followed. He began to press kisses across his cheeks, brow, chin, nose. “Darling,” he said, eventually capturing his lips in a needy kiss.

Crowley returned the kiss enthusiastically, rolling them until Aziraphale was pinned beneath his weight so he could press him into the mattress and lick his own taste from his mouth. 

His hands went from his shoulders to his hair and down his back as they kissed, his hips lifting and grinding to give Crowley’s second cock attention, not wanting to neglect a single bit of his husband. 

Having barely had a chance to actually _touch_ his husband, Crowley’s hands roamed. Starting at his shoulders, he worked his way down, caressing his strong arms and sturdy back. Fingers dug into ample sides, giving them a squeeze that made Aziraphale sigh into his mouth, then moved lower to grasp his hips and help encourage a lazy grind. 

Every stroke and grasp had pleasant sparks firing in Aziraphale’s mind, desire a low simmer. “My wonderful, sweet husband,” he murmured, words nearly lost in the press of their lips. “How I love you, my precious mate.”

“Love you, love you,” Crowley repeated back. Groaning as his still hard cock dragged against the crease of Aziraphale's hip. His second orgasm was never far behind the first and Aziraphale’s body was so soft and welcoming. 

“That’s it, my dear.” Aziraphale reached down, closing a hand around his length to stroke in time with his steady thrusts. He squeezed to make sure Crowley felt the band around his finger. “Let go for me; let me watch you.”

Unable to deny Aziraphale anything he asked, and not wanting to deny him either, Crowley moaned as he came in the circle of his fist. He clutched Aziraphale’s body close and pulled him into another deep kiss as he rode out the aftershocks. 

Aziraphale drank him in, hand working him through until he was spent. The sounds he made were perfect, were something he’d never get used to. Much like having him like this at all, even after more than a year together and the fresh rings on their fingers. “My darling husband,” he cooed, stroking his hair.

Crowley hummed back at him, body going boneless and sinking into Aziraphale’s loving embrace. This was where he always wanted to be.

Aziraphale nuzzled into his neck, content beneath him. Happily trapped, even. “Alive, dearest?”

“If I have to be,” Crowley mumbled in response, voice somewhat rough. 

Lips curving against his throat, Aziraphale burrowed further in. “I’d hate to be a widower so soon.”

Crowley chuckled, hand sliding up Aziraphale’s back to hold him close. “Dunno, might get an award for 'fastest spousal turn over.'”

“Oh, well, if that’s the case.” Aziraphale playfully pinched him.

“Oi!” Crowley yelped and grabbed his wrist to pin beside his head. “So that's how you treat your new husband, eh?” 

Aziraphale beamed at him. “If he deserves it, yes.”

“Deser-deserves?! I have been nothing but good to you, you little bastard. How dare you pinch me!” Crowley growled into his ear. 

Trying not to giggle, Aziraphale squirmed beneath him. “I suppose you'll have to do something about it.” 

“Maybe I will.” His tongue curled around the edge of Aziraphale's ear as he hissed. “Make you _beg_ me for mercssssy.” 

“Oh,” Aziraphale breathed, nearly following with an eager plea. Instead, he pinched him again. “I'd like to see you try.”

Shadowy tendrils shot out, quick as whips, to bind Aziraphale’s other wrist. “You're going to regret that.” Crowley sat up, replacing his hand with more shadows to keep both of Aziraphale's hands in place.

Aziraphale gave a testing tug, a shiver running through him as he gazed into molten gold eyes. There was no escaping these clutches. “Do you promise?”

Crowley grinned slow and predatory, fangs gleaming in the low light. “That depends. Are you going to be good for me?” 

He looked vicious, and could likely kill Aziraphale with very little effort. Blue eyes shone with excitement. “I might be.” 

Humming thoughtfully, Crowley caressed the places where thigh met hip with both hands while his shadows curled around the drying, but still damp, cock abandoned on the bed. “That's not the answer I was looking for.” 

Aziraphale’s breath caught on a soft moan, legs parting easily for him. “Wily serpent. I’ll be good.”

“Now that wasn't so difficult, was it?” Crowley dipped down to kiss the moan from his lips. “Keep being good for me and I'll give you as much pleasure as your body can handle.” 

“You always do, my love.” Anticipation tingling over his fabric skin, Aziraphale tugged at the shadows again just to feel them tighten their hold.

“Then why don't we get started? I've only got the rest of today and tonight guaranteed free from responsibility and I'd like to wring orgasm after orgasm out of you until you beg me for mercy.” 

“O-oh.” Aziraphale’s hips rolled, betraying his eagerness. “Perhaps I should’ve attached something special for the occasion.”

His cocks were already hardening again, twitching excitedly at the sight of Aziraphale bound and helpless before him. Though everything would stop if Aziraphale asked, he would never do anything his beloved did not want. “I _might_ be able to hold off ravishing you, if you wanted to change things up.” 

There were moments where Aziraphale loved him beyond reason. His eyes shone with it. “I want you to pick something out. So you can have plenty of options. Of course, I also don't _have_ to attach them to feel them.”

A strong gust of cool wind blew through the room and snapped the doors of the armoire wide open. “But you like having parts attached. How about this, I'll pick something out and while you get ready for me I'll go fetch you some cake to have after, just like I promised. I'm sure you'll be _peckish_. How does that sound?” 

His husband knew him so well. “Perfect. You'll have to, ah, make yourself more presentable.” He shifted to press his thigh against Crowley’s half-hard cocks. “I don't want anyone else to see you like this.”

Crowley hissed softly at the contact. “Possessive are we?” he asked, grinning against Aziraphale’s cheek. 

“Over _my_ husband? I think so.” There was a certain sort of thrill in someone else knowing just how much Crowley wanted him, but it wasn't nearly as important as the desire to keep this entirely private. To be the only one involved in what happened between them.

“As sexy as it is to see you get all jealous and huffy, I'm yours and yours alone.” The look on Aziraphale’s face when he'd explained how touchy the hags at the clothing emporium could get had been hilarious. “Honestly, angel, as if I'd go out and about with my dicks hangin' out.” 

If he could free his hands, Aziraphale would've pinched him again. “I _know_ that, foul fiend.”

“So sexy.” Crowley kissed the wrinkle between his drawn eyebrows then kissed the pouty frown from his lips before sitting up again. “Now stop distracting me.”

“You like being distracted,” Aziraphale pointed out. “Besides, I'm stuck where I am. You could get up at any time.”

Crowley arched an eyebrow at him. “You're right. I could.” He slithered from the bed, coils became legs, trousers hung low on his hips, and sauntered to the open armoire. 

Aziraphale squirmed, arousal still simmering warmly beneath his skin. He'd forgotten that Crowley had shifted before removing his trousers, so felt rather exposed with all of his stitching on display and Crowley suddenly half-dressed. “What are you going to pick?” 

“Dunno,” Crowley hummed and adjusted himself in his trousers. He could hear the rustle of the sheets behind him, but didn't turn around. Aziraphale hadn't said he wanted to be released and Crowley trusted him to speak up if he did. “You've given me a lot of options to choose from.”

The armoire was full of Aziraphale's various body parts. Almost all of them in clear glass jars to keep them clean but to also keep them from… well… moving around. The hands were the worst culprits. They insisted on touching him at all times and Crowley wouldn't have minded that, not at all, but it had been very embarrassing to show up to a town meeting with a stowaway hanging on his jacket and only realizing it when it crawled into his lap and started petting. 

“Yes, well, why just have one or two?” He could feel them if he let himself, even pressed up against the glass as they were. He had once, letting Crowley enshroud the entire cabinet in his shadows, and it had resulted in such immediate, intense pleasure that it had taken a bit of time for Aziraphale to wake back up. It was an exceptionally special occasion sort of event. “You don't have to only pick one. One to stitch on and another for you to, ah... do as you like with.” Like the cock Aziraphale was struggling not to feel.

Crowley chuckled and ran his fingers across the jars, smiling when one of Aziraphale's hands mimicked him and followed his fingertips. “You are spoiled rotten, angel.” 

Aziraphale smiled impishly. “Yes, thank you.”

He had to turn around then, to look back and see the smug smile, the raised eyebrows, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. And he loved him. He loved him so much his heart was singing with it. “I love you.” 

Smile softening, Aziraphale rested his cheek against his arm. “I love you too, Crowley.”

“You're not uncomfortable like that, are you?” 

“Oh, no. They're not holding tightly and I don't exactly have shoulder joints.” His body just tended to do what he wanted it to do. “I don't think I'd like to stay like this when you leave, but it isn't so bad now.”

Crowley turned back to the armoire, smile still soft and fond and entirely too sweet. “Nah, wouldn't leave you like that. Not while I'm not here to enjoy it.” The thought of doing so reminded him far too much of how the Angels used to treat Aziraphale. “Besides, can't sew anything on with your hands occupied like that.” 

“No, I certainly can't and I do want to be ready when you return.”

Mind made up, Crowley grabbed two jars from inside. He could almost _see_ how sad the hands were to not be picked as they pressed against their glass prisons. Naughty, insatiable things. Crowley carefully closed the doors and prowled back to the bed to set one jar on Aziraphale’s bare chest. “As you said, it is a _special occasion_ , so I want you to put this one on.” He set the other on the bedside table. “Leave this one for me.”

He tuned into them carefully, his arousal making them stir. His thighs pressed together uselessly. “Alright. You won’t be gone long, will you?”

“Course not, love. Back before you even have time enough to miss me.” He released Aziraphale’s wrists, allowing the shadows to dissipate. 

“My dear, you’d get no further than the porch if that were true.” After setting the jar aside, Aziraphale sat up and rolled his wrists to stretch them out, then plucked a needle out from behind his ear. “Finish getting dressed now. You always get distracted and handsy when you watch me do this.”

“Course I do. How could I not when I see you all spread out for me?” 

“I’m all spread out for you now too.”

Crowley grabbed his thigh and squeezed. “I know. And it's taking everything I have to not say to hell with the cake and having my wicked way with you right now.” 

Just barely swallowing his moan, Aziraphale nudged him back. “Oh, no. You promised me cake.”

“Unfortunately for me, yes.” Despite how much Crowley would rather not go, he had, indeed, promised Aziraphale cake. He reluctantly went to the closet and grabbed a shirt at random to pull on. A quick glance in the mirror showed his hair was an absolute mess and he grinned. No way was he fixing it. 

“Terrible thing,” Aziraphale tutted, knowing just what that grin meant. No one he came across wouldn’t know what he’d been up to, but it was their wedding day. They could do as they liked. “Go on. I’ll still be here when you return.”

Crowley stopped at the bed to pull Aziraphale into a searing kiss, fingers tangling in soft curls. “I know you will be.” 

Aziraphale tucked his needle into his wrist before reaching up to cup his cheeks. “Mmhm. If you run into Tracy, do tell her I love my ring.”

“You bet I will, though expect it won't change her mind much.” 

“That's alright. It's really only our opinions that matter, isn't it?” Aziraphale nipped his lower lip. “Now go. I mean it. I'm not missing our entire wedding cake, Crowley.”

“You and your bloody cake,” Crowley grumbled good naturedly. “Alright, alright, I'm going.” He gave Aziraphale one more lingering kiss before slipping away, swaying his hips more than was strictly necessary just because he knew Aziraphale liked to watch. 

He did and he certainly enjoyed it as long as he could. Those tight trousers of his had always been a weakness, but it was wonderful to be able to admire him openly. Whenever he wanted. Aziraphale smiled at his ring, then picked up the jar and opened it. 

Once his favourite - _their_ favourite - vulva was neatly attached, Aziraphale abandoned their bed to fetch lost buttons and fabric scraps from the entryway. He did want to be sure he had every piece of the shirt he'd gotten married in, humming as he stitched it back together enough that he could put it on anew.

It was half-buttoned when he heard the front door open, so Aziraphale left it and squirmed until he was comfortably lounged against the small mountain of pillows acquired both before and after moving in together. The long dress shirt kept the newly attached bit covered, the tease of it what really mattered to Aziraphale, and would hopefully garner his husband's approval too.

Crowley stopped by the kitchen first, noting with a fond shake of his head the lack of mess in the front hall. Even on their wedding day it seemed Aziraphale just couldn't help himself. He made sure to make enough noise while he cut a generous slice and stored the rest. Aziraphale didn't know it, but Crowley had set aside an entire cake just for them and had Tracy keep it hidden away.

With promised cake secured, he headed to the bedroom and almost laughed out loud at how the door was only open a crack, despite leaving it wide open when he left. It would seem he wasn't the only one capable of surprises. He pushed it open, grin wide. “I thought we agreed no-” The words caught in his throat and he almost dropped the plate. “Cleaning.”

Aziraphale was relaxed, propped up by copious pillows, a recently stoked fire roared and cast his hair and fabric skin in golden light. His eyes, though, were drawn down the partially exposed chest to the tantalizing peek of what lay beneath the newly fixed shirt. 

“I didn't clean. I only, ah, mended something.” And, oh, good, his husband _did_ like it. “You brought me my cake.”

“Mended. Yeah, I can, er," Crowley cleared his throat, “can see that.”

Aziraphale smiled, lashes fluttering. “If you'd like to do more than just see, you should probably come a touch closer.”

Crowley allowed himself a brief moment to take him in, to imprint the sight into his mind. He only wished there were a way to have this as a painting without anyone else having to see it. Crowley gave himself a quick shake before he stalked to the bed, absently set the cake on the bedside table, and placed a knee on the mattress to lean over him. “Don't you look gorgeous,” he whispered, running fingertips from ankle to knee. 

“As long as you think so, I'll be happy.” Aziraphale lifted a hand to his cheek. “My stunning serpent.”

“Always. You're always gorgeous.” Crowley dipped to kiss him, thumb circling his knee in slow swipes.

Aziraphale’s other hand lifted to dive into already mussed hair, tangling in the auburn locks as he drank in his husband's taste. His leg shifted to encourage Crowley’s hand to move higher, the warm buzz of arousal returning with the snake.

“Eager little thing, aren't we?” Crowley chuckled into his mouth, hand staying right where it was. 

Aziraphale huffed at him. “You were rather eager before you left.”

“I still am, teasing you is just very fun.” Crowley nipped his pouty lip then trailed kisses across his jaw. 

“Terror,” Aziraphale said, partially a complaint but very fond. He reached for the cake, swiped a finger through the frosting before swiping it down Crowley’s throat. His tongue chased it on a low, satisfied hum. “Oh, that's scrummy.”

“Scrummy,” Crowley gasped, free hand came up to tangle in his curls and keep him right where he was. “Only you say 'scrummy.'” 

“You just said it twice,” Aziraphale pointed out, tugging at Crowley's shirt. He nipped his neck and reached out for another swipe of frosting. “And it's the right word to use.”

“If you say so.” His hand shot out to grasp Aziraphale’s wrist as he dragged two fingers through the cake again and brought it to his mouth, licking the frosting away with a long tongue. The affronted expression this caused was quickly wiped away when Crowley kissed him, sliding his tongue between lax lips to share the treat. 

Aziraphale lapped at his tongue with an eager sort of moan, tugging Crowley closer in search of more. “Scrumptious.”

“Now you're just making up words on purpose.” 

“It's a real word, you silly serpent.” Aziraphale tugged his shirt again, sliding it up. “Now get this off. The fire and I can keep you warm enough.”

Crowley sat back on his knees, enjoying the sight of Aziraphale disheveled with his hair sticking out in odd places, breath labored, and a hastily stitched together shirt hanging off one shoulder and riding up his thighs. “Fuck. I can't believe you're mine.” 

“I'll be yours forever, my dear.” Aziraphale cupped his hips, squeezing fondly. “I'll very happily be yours forever.”

“Better be. Spent a lot of time and effort to slither my way into your heart.” He undid just enough buttons to easily pull the shirt over his head and toss it over his shoulder. Crowley dove down to kiss him again, to feel Aziraphale’s warm fabric skin against his front with the fire hot and crackling at his back. 

Aziraphale laughed into the kiss, hands gripping at his back and stroking along his spine. “Eager little thing, aren't we?” he parroted.

“For you? Always.” Hands gripped Aziraphale’s hair to tilt his head back so Crowley could kiss a line down his throat towards what little was exposed of his chest. 

Arching up, Aziraphale tangled a hand in his hair. His mouth was warm and damp, tongue and teeth a delicious tease. “Good, yes. Are you keeping your legs for now?”

Crowley ran his hand from his hair, down his neck, and across his shoulders. “Unless you have a special request.” 

“Mm-mm. Just wondering how I was going to get access.” He unbuttoned Crowley’s trousers, tugging them down his hips until soft fingers could curl around one of his cocks.

“Ah!” Crowley gasped, hips automatically bucking into the familiar touch, almost forgetting he had _plans_. “O-oh no you don't.” Shadows lashed out, wrapping around Aziraphale’s wrists and wrenching them regrettably away. 

“Oh!” Aziraphale bit his lip, glancing at either of his wrists. The pulses around them, grip tightening and lessening in rhythmic motions, made him quiver in anticipation. “Still planning your punishment then?”

Crowley chuckled into his chest. “Depends. Is me making you come over and over again something you'd think of as _punishment_?” 

Aziraphale’s legs found their way around Crowley’s waist, thighs squeezing. “Perhaps not. Being with you never is.”

“Unless you'd like it to be.” Crowley kicked the rest of the way out of his trousers. Difficult with Aziraphale wrapped around him as he was, but doable.

He hummed, rocking his hips up to grind against him. “I'd like whatever you've concocted in that devious mind of yours. Particularly since you did get me cake.” Perhaps he was getting a little spoiled by Crowley, but everything he did was endlessly appreciated.

Crowley groaned and kissed him deep, matching the motion of his hips to rub his cocks against his already wet and dripping lips. The desire to thrust in, to fuck him in earnest, was immense. “Gonna, mm, gonna need to let me go, love. Or you'll, ah, ruin my plans here.” 

The rutting made his eyes close and back arch, enjoying the light strain against brand new stitches as much as he did the tease against the sensitive opening, the promise for what would hopefully come soon. His thighs squeezed him tightly for a moment before he slowly unwound and let them fall. “A-alright.”

“Good, good,” Crowley panted, legs shaking. “Don't- don't worry, love. You'll have both my cocks before I'm through with you.” He sat back reluctantly and grabbed the second jar from the nightstand, retrieving from inside a cock that was thicker than what was generally considered feasible. It was ribbed and ridged in a way that was similar to his own. Crowley stroked it once, just to watch Aziraphale shake. 

Aziraphale whined, head falling back against the pillows. “C-Crowley, _please_.”

Crowley snickered and placed a kiss on the head of it. “Would you like to know what I want to do to you?” 

Aziraphale squirmed, watching him. It was different when he had something attached, feeling his walls clench around nothing. “Mm- Mmhm.”

“Well as much as I love being inside you, and I do, I tend to lose my head a bit. So I'm going to fuck you,” he paused simply for the drama of it, “with your own cock. Until you beg me to fuck you myself.” 

Oh, that was new. Aziraphale would be lying if he said he'd never thought of it before, but it wasn't something he'd given voice to. His heart skipped a tick, and he nodded. “Yes. You could, um, have a shadow do it. Free up your hands.” His lashes fluttered almost sweetly. “If you'd like.”

Crowley growled and shadows wrapped around Aziraphale’s legs to spread him open as Crowley licked around the head of his cock. “Certainly an option.” 

Aziraphale writhed, only able to move his hips in a needy roll as the growl and phantom feel of his tongue rippled through him. “ _Crowley_!”

“I do so love it when you say my name like that.” He licked the cock again, from base to tip, and ran fingertips over the lips of his vulva. Delighted to watch his hips jerk and twitch. 

Whining breathlessly, Aziraphale bucked against his hand. His cock twitched in that sure grasp, pulsing and throbbing, and the dual touch was a shock to the system. It wasn’t going to take him long at all to reach his first peak. “I-I'll say i-it however you like. I- _oh_ ,” he moaned, head pressing back into the pillows and eyes closing in ecstasy.

He loved watching Aziraphale give himself over to pleasure. Loved reducing him to stuttered sentences and soft noises. Loved that Aziraphale trusted him enough to be vulnerable in this way. “That's right, angel. Such a gorgeous thing, aren't you.” He slipped a single finger inside, just to the first knuckle, keeping his touch gentle. 

Aziraphale rocked his hips up in search of more - more touch, more stretch, more attention, more _Crowley_. The shadows squeezed his thighs and his wrists in tandem, stretching his seams, and he cried out as he reached that first crest. He closed around Crowley’s finger, his release spilling over his hand, and the cock in his grip stiffened and flexed in a dry release. He was already prepared to beg Crowley to burrow himself deep, to thrust into him, but only let out wordless noises of pleasure instead.

Crowley kissed his bent knee and used his shadows to caress his soft cheeks. “Still with me?” 

“I-” It took him a moment, but he nodded. “Mmhm. If... If that's what- how it feels when both of yours go off together, it's no wonder you proposed to me how you did.”

Crowley snorted, then buried his face in Aziraphale's thigh to muffle his laughter. “You-you bastard!” was all he was able to get out between the giggles. 

Aziraphale couldn't poke him with his hands and legs caught as they were, nor could he easily hide his smile. “I'd ask you, but we're already married.”

That only set off another round of giggles and Crowley’s face slid lower to settle on his hip. “Beat you, heh, beat you to the punch, angel.” 

He wasn't sure if he ever would've gotten up enough courage to ask, so that was alright. “Yes, you did. Though now you seem to be, ah, beating around the bush. As it were.”

Crowley snorted again then groaned. “Angel, you're _awful_. That was so terrible I shouldn't even fuck you now.” He still grinned into Aziraphale’s hip. 

“Now that's just cruel. You can't deny me just for that.”

“Can't I?” Crowley kissed the fabric skin just under his mouth. “I am the king after all.” 

Aziraphale’s breath caught. “Y-yes, but you're _my_ mate.”

The word sent a zing of heat down Crowley’s spine and he growled, trailing kisses up his leg. “I _am_ your mate, yes. Your mate and your husband.” 

“Mmhm.” Aziraphale loved his growl and the way he reacted to the claim. “Yes. Yes, you’re so good at both. You’re not going to let me down, are you?”

“I would never.” When he reached Aziraphale’s knee again he pressed his cheek there to gaze up at him. The smile turned on him was fond, and also a little bit smug. Well, he'd change that quite quick if the last reaction was anything to go by. “Ready to go again?” 

“Oh, yes. I’m ready for you.” Possibly.

Crowley grinned. “Oh no, not me. Not yet.” He ran his thumb along the ridges of the cock in his hand and watched Aziraphale twitch. 

“O-oh. Gosh.” Aziraphale rolled his hips up. “Wicked thing.”

“The wickedest,” Crowley agreed and gently withdrew his finger to stroke the cock with his wet hand. “Before was just a warm up.” 

Needy moan spilling into the air, Aziraphale let himself go pliant as those deft fingers worked over him. He squeezed up the seam up the center, thumb flicking over the knotted thread beneath the cockhead, and Aziraphale whined Crowley’s name. “I-I’m decidedly - _please_ \- decidedly warmed up.”

“Alright, alright.” Crowley stopped in his teasing strokes and straightened up, positioning the thick cock at his dripping entrance. “Now, you'll tell me if it's too much.” 

Both bits were embarrassingly eager to be used for this, Aziraphale trying to push his hips down. “I will.”

“Good,” Crowley purred and spread his lips with two fingers to slide the head of the cock inside. 

Aziraphale gasped at the dual sensation, caught between being surrounded by wet heat and being filled. His hands strained to grasp at the sheets, but he could only clutch the air and take it. “C-Crowley-!”

Crowley hummed back, watching Aziraphale intensely for any signs of discomfort or tearing of stitches. He pulled the cock back just a bit then pushed back in slightly deeper. 

It made Aziraphale turn his face away in a vain effort to hide a rare blush, stunned his own response and unable to escape. He didn’t want to, but it was without any doubt going to overwhelm him. He peeked down, finding golden eyes watching him with patience and concern beneath base hunger. “It- it’s good. It’s _so_ \- It’s too- I think- Need you to hold me.” He needed that grounding pressure, the squeeze of his husband wrapped around him.

The shadows released his hands immediately and Crowley surged up to press their chests together and entwine their fingers. “I'm here, love. I'm here.” 

Aziraphale nodded, pressed his face into Crowley’s shoulder. “I’m- I’m not saying stop. It just feels- There’s so _much_. Limbs or coils, I just need you to be holding me.”

Crowley shifted his lower half without a second thought, black and red coils filling their bed and winding around and under Aziraphale. He caressed his cheek and kissed him. “I've got you.”

It was immediately better, the cool pressure around him oddly comforting. He wrapped his fingers around Crowley’s wrist, nuzzling into his palm. “Yes, you do. My darling serpent.”

“Are you alright?” 

After a moment, heart rate settling from Overwhelmed to Pleasantly Buzzing, he nodded again. “Mmhm. You can keep going, love.”

“You're doing so good, angel.” Crowley settled beside him, one arm under his head to hold him close the other still between his legs. He gave the cock a single gentle thrust, cautious of overwhelming him again. 

Aziraphale tucked his face against Crowley’s shoulder on a low moan, clinging to him as he was clung to in return. It was easier to handle this way, hips rolling into the thrust to meet it. His cock twitched, his walls clenched, and the rub of Crowley’s scales against his body was the right anchor to help him enjoy both. He wasn't going to last, but it didn't matter. “A-again. Again, please.”

Delighted by these new reactions Crowley thrust the cock again, deeper, but still keeping a slow pace to let him get used to it. Though if the noises Aziraphale was making were any indication he was enjoying it immensely. “There you are, love. That's right, let me take care of you.” 

Aziraphale babbled something in response, the words garbled by keening noises. His fingers dug into Crowley’s back hard enough to bruise, but he was hardly aware of it. He was too swept up in this unique version of being taken care of, lost in the disconnect of not controlling his own shaft as it was carefully thrust again and again. The textured ribbing both outside and in, designed with Crowley’s pleasure in mind, caught and rubbed together with each drag and the combination was very quickly pushing him towards peak. “Crowley,” he whimpered, clutching at him desperately. “Crowley, please, Crowley.”

Kissing his forehead, Crowley glanced down. They were almost to the base of it. He could feel his own cocks twitching against Aziraphale’s thigh, wanting to be buried in him instead. “You've almost taken all of it, you greedy angel. What can I do? Tell me what you need.” 

“F-faster, please. So I can have you.”

Crowley almost laughed, hiding his grin in Aziraphale's hair. “Have me? But we've barely started.” He did as he was bid, though, and sped up the short thrusts. 

Aziraphale cried out against Crowley’s shoulder, unable to protest. Barely started, indeed. He wanted his husband, but demands were drowned as he was given exactly what he'd asked for. His beloved was entirely too good at doing just that, and clearly as good at moving Aziraphale’s bits as he was his own. Quick was just what all of him wanted, apparently, as pressure was building fast and low. It was getting to be overwhelming all over again, but in the right way this time. “Crowley, I'm- I'm-”

He could feel Aziraphale trembling against him, each thrust and retreat causing whimpers and gasps to babble from his lips. He tightened his hold, scales sliding across his chest and sides. “That's right, love. Let go for me.”

There was no refusing him, the tightening hold and unceasing thrusts sending him over the edge. It was more intense than the first, Aziraphale’s wail muffled when his teeth sank into Crowley’s shoulder when his body was rocked hard enough to be blinding. 

Crowley yelped as Aziraphale unexpectedly bit into him but kept holding him close and gently slowed the cock as Aziraphale came down. He rubbed his back and pressed soft kisses into his hair to keep him grounded.

Aziraphale dropped a hand to limply push at Crowley's wrist to get him to remove the phallus, relaxing when his sensitive bits were separated. His attempt at a word was more akin to some of Crowley's nonsense sounds, but it was the best he could do with his mind sufficiently melted and his lips giving the new bitemark apologetic kisses.

Crowley set the soaked cock aside so he could curl both arms around Aziraphale. “S'not everyday you're struck speechless, love,” Crowley mumbled into mussed curls. 

Remembering how sweetly panicked he'd been after the cabinet incident, Aziraphale worked up something coherent for him. “Mm-mm. S'very... Jolly good.”

“Now that's some high praise.” Crowley couldn't help his snickering. Normally things were very much reversed with him being the one who was struggling for coherency while Aziraphale teased.

Aziraphale nipped his shoulder in retaliation. “Wretch.”

“Hey! You already bit me once, isn't that enough?”

Lips curved against his skin. “No.”

Crowley scoffed. “First pinching, now biting, one would think you'd be nicer to your long suffering husband.” 

“Mm, yes, I suppose I should be kind enough to let him have me. He has been awfully good to me this afternoon.”

Crowley shivered, clenching a hand at Aziraphale's side. “We don't have to, if you're not up for it. I put you through quite a lot already.” 

Aziraphale reached down, stroking his fingers over one, then the other cock just to feel him shiver again. “I know, but I want you, darling.”

“Fuck. Yeah, alright. Let's a- let me-” He pulled Aziraphale’s leg over hip, coils shifting to slide between his legs and against his back. “How's this, love?” 

Hum soft, Aziraphale wriggled just to feel that strong expanse of scales against his back. “Lovely, dearest.”

Crowley reached between them to position his cocks, groaning at how wet and open he was. “Ssshit, angel, m'not gonna last very long.”

“I think that's for the best, my dear.” Aziraphale reached up to stroke his hair. “Go slow for me, my darling, just to start.”

“Yeah, I can- I can do that.” Just as Aziraphale asked, he pushed in slowly. A broken moan escaped his lips as he was gradually engulfed in warm wet heat. 

It was a much wider stretch for an already sensitive quim, Aziraphale’s own moan echoing Crowley’s as he was steadily filled. “Oh, good. Good, yes.” His head ducked, tongue laving over the bitemark he'd left on Crowley’s shoulder.

Crowley nuzzled into his hair and fingers flexed on his thigh as he bottomed out. “Fffuck.” He was keenly aware of every noise and twitch Aziraphale made, his tongue a hot brand on his skin. 

“That's it, beloved. You're wonderful.” Aziraphale wrapped his legs around his waist, drawing him in just a little further. He clenched around him deliberately, conscious of every ridge and every inch. He was sensitive and wouldn't last long, but nothing hurt and his seams were still intact. Relaxing again, he carefully rocked his hips in another test that had Crowley’s hiss cutting the air. “My sweet serpent. My perfect husband. You can move. Have me.”

With a soft whine Crowley drew back and thrust back in, keeping it slow and aware of the interior knots of stitches that caught on the ridges of his cocks and sent sparks of pleasure down his long spine. Flexing coils pressed Aziraphale closer, curling around his back. “Mmm, a-angel. Sssso good. So good.”

Aziraphale tipped his head back, a hand sliding into Crowley’s hair as their lips met. His hips moved with him, encouraged by the scales pressing against him. “I love you.”

Crowley moaned into his mouth. “Love you. Love you.” Each word followed with a kiss. His fingers dug into Aziraphale’s rocking hips, every met thrust encouraged him to take his lover faster, to reach their peak together. 

Aziraphale gasped and whimpered, clinging to him tighter in turn. Crowley’s grip, his long tail supporting him, the wet sounds they made together - it all built so quickly. He couldn't hold back and didn't try, head falling back on a wail as he came yet again.

Crowley clamped his mouth over Aziraphale’s neck to muffle his own cry. The clench and spasm of his interior walls pulled him deeper and Crowley followed him over, muscles tensing and squeezing for a long moment before going slack. 

Aziraphale shuddered against him, face pressing into the crook of his neck as he struggled to catch his breath. “Crowley...”

“Mm?” He mumbled back, clumsy fingers caressing every bit of fabric skin he could reach. 

He hummed, mind swimming in a pleasant haze. “Mm-mm-mm. My Crowley.”

“Yours,” Crowley confirmed, pressing his smile into his hair. He loved it when Aziraphale got all mumbly. It didn't happen often, but was something to look forward to.

Aziraphale pressed a smiling kiss to Crowley’s throat, searching for his left hand to clasp it and rub his thumb over the ring. The metal was far warmer now than when it had first been slipped onto his finger, a fact which nearly had him wiggling happily. Nearly. He caught himself in time, far too sensitive for any of that.

Crowley tangled their fingers together. The angle was a little awkward but he didn't care. It was silly, perhaps, but the simple act had his heart soaring. Aziraphale was _his_ , curled in his arms safe and snug, and they were _holding hands_. “Told you I'd never take it off.” 

“I'll need to when swapping hands,” Aziraphale mused, content right where he was. Where they both were. “The other set misses you anyway.” 

“I noticed. I think they were sad I didn't take them out.” 

“They'll get their turn. I need to switch them now anyway. I will after cake, I think.” Because he certainly hadn't forgotten about the piece on the bedside table.

Crowley chuckled into his curls. “Want me to let you go so you can have your cake?” 

“Our cake,” he corrected breathlessly, the little laugh going straight through him. “I don't particularly want you to let go, but I do need you to, ah... exit.”

“Sssorry.” He always forgot, very likely some sort of snakey leftover. He slipped out with a hiss, feeling Aziraphale shiver against him, and kept his face hidden in his soft curls. 

Aziraphale’s teeth found the same bitemark, teasing it anew. “You know I don't normally mind.”

Crowley hissed, more growl than tongue. “Ssstop that! Already going to leave a bruise, you menace.” 

Able to wiggle now, he happily took advantage. “Yes, I'm hoping it does. I rather like it.”

“Wanting to put your mark on me, eh? Already have a ring. Is that not enough?” Not that anyone would be able to see it, the place on his shoulder covered by clothes most of the time. 

“Oh, my dear, of course it's enough.” Aziraphale lifted his free hand, thumb pressing against the bruise. “But I want more.”

“Bastard,” Crowley growled through the dull ache, squeezing the hand in his. “What's this about then? Never mentioned it before. Not complaining, just wanna know.” 

Aziraphale leaned back, hand lifting to cup his cheek instead. “Well... Not sure. There's something... a little exciting about knowing you've got a secret little mark on you that I left. I like being yours, and I like knowing you're mine.”

Crowley leaned into his hand, nuzzling at his palm. “Seems my possessiveness is rubbing off on you.” 

“Perhaps so. Is that alright?”

Eyes filled with mischief, Crowley rolled them to pin Aziraphale to their bed, one hand still clasped in his. “Dunno. Maybe I like being the possessive one.” 

Aziraphale giggled, but otherwise let him have his way. “By now, you must know I love that about you. It makes me feel so... wanted. I don't know that I'll ever be used to that.”

“Of course you're wanted, angel. You're _so_ wanted.” Crowley kissed the giggles from his lips. “I wanted you for so long and now you're mine and I _still_ want you. Of course it's alright you're possessive of me, I've wanted to be yours just as long as I've wanted you to be mine.”

“That's certainly mutual, darling.” It was something he was far more used to now than he had been at the beginning of their relationship, something that didn't feel as impossible as it had the day they'd met. Really, their relationship had blossomed into something he never could've imagined that first day. He'd never even considered sex before being with Crowley, so definitely hadn't ever thought it would be something so wonderful. 

And even if he had considered it, he didn't think he would've imagined Crowley being as giving as he was. As understanding and patient and willing to give Aziraphale what he needed. They wanted one another and Crowley was extremely possessive, but he never made Aziraphale feel like a possession. He had autonomy and it was respected. “I'm so glad I married you.”

“I'm glad too. Woulda been terribly embarrassing if you said no.”

“You were terribly embarrassed anyway. I laughed at you.”

“You did! I proposed and you laughed right in my face. Almost broke my heart there.” 

“It did not.” Aziraphale playfully poked him. “Silly serpent.”

“It could have! M’very sensitive, you know.” Crowley grabbed the hand that poked him and kissed his palm.

“Parts of you are,” he teased, finally untangling their joined hands to pull Crowley down for a proper kiss.

Crowley hummed into the kiss, allowing Aziraphale to move his head exactly how he liked. “And you know all about those sensitive bits.”

“And you know all about mine.” Aziraphale stroked his hair, smile soft and fond. “I wish you could afford to take a few more days off, but I don't know what this town would do without you.”

“Probably cannibalize themselves or something as equally idiotic,” Crowley grumbled, settling down to lay has head on Aziraphale’s chest and listen to his gently ticking heart. “I probably _could_ take more days off, if I could convince Shadwell not to freak out… and as long as I still did my rounds. Make sure nothing gets out.” Some days the job was more akin to a prison warden than a king. 

“We would have to go through Tracy, I think, to keep the mayor at bay.” Aziraphale kissed the top of his head. “And perhaps I could go on your rounds with you?” 

Crowley traced unidentifiable patterns on the dress shirt they hadn't bothered to remove and bit his lip. “S'not pretty, or fun. Boring most of the time, really.”

“Perhaps they're boring because you always insist on going alone.” And he had plenty of experience with “not fun.” Living with the Angels had meant years of mindless, often senseless chores. They all would've been improved by some pleasant company. “If I came along, we could at least talk.”

“I'm not- I'm not saying you _can't_ come. It's just-” Upsetting. Frightening. “It's dangerous. There's _things_ here and I'm the only thing keeping them from running amok.” Crowley pressed his face into Aziraphale’s chest. “I do it alone because it would frighten anyone else.” 

“Crowley, darling, you know I'm not frightened easily or often. And I'm well-aware that some of what you do is very dangerous. If you let me come along, I don't have to or expect to be right beside you the entire time. If it's safer to wait somewhere, I'll wait.” Aziraphale's fingers skimmed down his back in gentle strokes and the occasional gentle caress. “I just want you to know you don't have to go through all of it alone.”

Crowley melted into a half-snake puddle. It was true Aziraphale was the only being he'd met with almost no fear of anything, he hadn't batted a single silk eyelash when Crowley turned up looking like something out of a nightmare. “Alright, alright. You've convinced me. M'still gonna worry, though.” He could think of at least a few imprisoned beings who would be very interested in turning Aziraphale into one of their puppets. 

“I know you will, you overprotective snake.” Aziraphale’s hands skimmed over scales, always happy to have the chance to indulge his hands when he'd never thought he'd have that chance. “But I promise I'll be careful and do as you tell me. You're the expert, after all.”

“Mmm, Adam'll be jealous. Haven't let him come with me yet. Dunno if he's ready for it.” 

“No, he may think he is but he'd still much rather be playing than ruling. Besides, I married you. I should get to monopolise your time.”

Crowley snorted and kissed his chest. “Like you're doing now?” 

Aziraphale bit back his giggles only to keep from bouncing Crowley. “It's my wedding day. I get you all to myself.”

“You doooo,” Crowley crooned, wiggling up just enough to bump Aziraphale’s chin with the top of his head. “I'd spend everyday with you monopolising my time like this if I could.”

Aziraphale smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head and happily keeping his face buried in soft auburn hair. Mussed as it was by his own hands. “I know, dearest. It is alright that you can't, you know. I knew I was marrying a very busy being.”

“I know. I just- I want to spend every waking minute with you, and most of my sleeping minutes too.”

The giggles escaped, spilling into his hair. “You do spend quite a bit of time sleeping, don't you? I promise you get a lot of those minutes with me.”

Crowley didn't mind the movement, making Aziraphale laugh was always worth it. “That's because you're very comfortable to sleep on.” 

“Mm. You're very lucky I enjoy having you so consistently close.”

“No luck about it,” Crowley said, turning his head to kiss at Aziraphale's throat. “I wooed you with my exceptional good looks and charming wit.” 

Aziraphale’s giggles melted into a fond smile, head tipping to let Crowley’s lips wander as they liked. “Oh, is that what did it?”

“I'd say so.” Crowley trailed kisses up his throat. “Unless you're trying to say I'm _not_ handsome and charming.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, but you’re quite a bit more than that. Clever and wicked and particularly sweet to me.” Aziraphale slid a hand back into his hair. “Even if I didn’t think you were stunning, I wouldn’t have stood much of a chance.”

Crowley pushed up to kiss him properly, a slow slide of lips that would have had his toes curling if he had any at the moment. “Careful, angel, gonna give me a big ego.” 

“If I haven’t yet, I don’t think there’s much chance in managing it.” Aziraphale rubbed their noses together, comfortable and safe and surrounded. “But I’ll put you in your place if it happens,” he teased.

“Only because I let you,” he grumbled back, though his smile was soft and fond and all together lovesick. 

“As you should. I think, as your husband, I get special privileges.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Only as my husband? As if I haven't been giving you special privileges from the beginning.” 

“I don’t know what you mean.” Lashes fluttering innocently, Aziraphale pinched him.

Wising up to his husband's antics, Crowley grabbed both wrists and pinned them above his head before Aziraphale started using both of them to torture him. “Again with the pinching?” 

“Perhaps if you let me up for cake, I wouldn’t be so tempted to use my hands for nefarious purposes.”

Crowley pouted, but released his hands with a dramatic sigh. “If that's the only thing that will keep you from torturing me…” He flopped onto the bed beside Aziraphale, head propped up in his hand and coils shifting to no longer be holding down his legs. “Have your cake, you spoiled thing.” 

“If I am spoiled, it’s entirely your doing. Certainly no one before you cared so much.” Aziraphale wiggled until he was sitting up, adjusting the pillows to his liking before reaching for the plate. The first bite had him humming, the frosting a little sour and the cake just the right amount of stale. He forked up another bite and offered it with a smile. “It’s your wedding cake too.”

With an indulgent sigh, Crowley wrapped his long tongue around the tines of the fork and slid the bite of cake into his mouth, only chewing once before swallowing. “Mostly yours, though. Cake’s not exactly my thing, you know that.”

“I know. You rather liked the frosting, though.” Aziraphale smiled around another forkful. “Thank you for fetching me a piece, dearest.”

Crowley eyed the quickly disappearing slice and slowly grinned. “Oh? Did I forget to mention?” He hadn’t actually forgotten anything, it was just more fun this way.

“Mm?”

“S’not just the one slice. There’s a whole cake in the kitchen.”

“Oh, Crowley, you do love me very much, don't you?” Aziraphale wiggled eagerly. “A whole cake?”

“Mmhmm.” Crowley swiped a finger through what was left of the icing and held it to Aziraphale’s lips. “All for you.”

Leaning in, Aziraphale slid the finger into his mouth with a wicked little suck and lav of his tongue. “You'll benefit too, my dear, I promise.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” Crowley said, a little breathless. He caressed his cheek then trailed fingers down his throat to rest on his chest. “Now finish that before you get crumbs all over our bed.”

“You’re the one who brought it into the bedroom. It’s almost as if you don’t want me to leave here the rest of the day.” Though the tease was said with the air of someone who clearly hoped that was the case.

Crowley kissed his shoulder. “That was the plan, yes.”

“It’s an excellent plan. One of your best, I’d say.” Smiling, Aziraphale set the empty plate on the bedside table and wriggled in amongst scales and sheets until he was snugly tucked against Crowley’s chest.

With a content sigh Crowley draped his tail over Aziraphale’s legs again and wound his arms around him. There was nowhere else he wanted to be, no one else he could even imagine wanting to share this with. “I love you.”

There was nowhere else Aziraphale wanted to be either. Companionship had been an impossible dream once, something he’d wished for on long, moonlit nights but had never dared hope for aloud. Part of him had never believed he'd ever have it anyway. 

“I love you too, dearest.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find us on tumblr at [SylWritesStuff](https://sylwritesstuff.tumblr.com/) and [theladydrgn](https://theladydrgn.tumblr.com/)!


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